Silent Hill: Harry Mason
by Mike N
Summary: Harry Mason finds himself alive after nearly being killed by Claudia Wolf's pet monster. Now, he must team with a local nurse to find his daughter, Heather, and to stop the evil that dwells in Silent Hill. Overlaps with Silent Hill: Lost Souls.
1. Confrontation

I.

_Daddy!_

Harry Mason couldn't immediately discern where his daughter's cry had come from, but he could feel panic and fear boiling in his stomach.

_Daddy—where are you?_

An infinite darkness surrounded Harry, and Heather's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. His paternal instincts took over and Harry attempted to move in a direction, any direction to get closer to Heather. But Harry found that he was floating in a sea of black, and though he shifted and writhed around, he couldn't find a solid anything to push off of.

Harry opened his mouth to call out, but his voice came out as nothing more than a muted, strained breath. He flailed desperately, wanting to move towards Heather, but he was stuck in the middle of nowhere. And Heather was out there somewhere.

_Daddy, we can't run away…they found me…they want me back..._

Heather's voice became more ethereal and distant, but the words hit Harry hard. All this time, Harry thought everything was fine—that the horror they barely lived through in Silent Hill had been vanquished for good. But now, all those memories that Harry had pushed away flooded back to him, and he clutched his head in denial.

With a start, Harry's eyes shot open, and it took a few more moments for the intensity of the dream to fade. He exhaled loudly, thankful it was just a nightmare. Instead of floating in darkness, he was sitting in his favorite recliner in his apartment. Heather wasn't lost—she had simply gone to the mall for the day. There was nothing dangerous about that, unless he considered his teenaged daughter having his credit card at the mall a precarious circumstance.

Harry smiled at the thought of that, the icy remnants of the dream quickly melting away. The sharp ring of the phone set Harry's senses back on full alert, instantly thinking of the strange siren noise back then. _Calm down, old man,_ Harry told himself though his heart was still beating a bit fast.

He grabbed the receiver on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Dad? It's me."

Already feeling more at ease, Harry replied, "Heather, I was just thinking about you. I was starting to get worried."

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't call sooner."

"You seemed a bit distracted this morning before you left," Harry probed. Usually energetic and lively, Heather was brooding and quiet through breakfast. Noticing her disposition, Harry suggested that she get some fresh air and check out the mall. She reluctantly agreed, and headed out soon thereafter. Harry presumed her moody behavior was just Heather having an off day, but after his dream, he wondered if her demeanor and the dream were somehow connected.

"Yeah, I guess I was," she absently replied. Her tone lightening, she added, "Anyway, I'm coming home now. Oh, I didn't get that thing you asked me to."

Harry smiled to himself. Knowing Heather, she had probably totally forgotten what he had asked her to get, which would explain her ambiguity. "We'll just run out there tomorrow and pick it up," Harry responded, keeping the same ambiguity going.

"Okay."

"Be careful on the way home and avoid talking to strangers."

"Okay, I will," Heather chuckled slightly. It was just like her dad to worry about her as if she were seven years old again. She wondered if he would continue to give her the same advice even when she was living on her own with her own family. The mental picture amused Heather, and she found that she actually felt better after talking to Harry.

"Heather, I love you." It even surprised Harry that he said it so emotionally, as if he wouldn't get another change to say so.

"I love you too, Dad," she sincerely replied. Then she hung up.

Harry stayed on the phone for only a few more moments, holding on to the silence on the other end then set the receiver down. He took a deep breath and stood, stretching his legs then crossed the room to the set of French doors leading to the small balcony. Looking out, Henry frowned at the afternoon sky, which was unusually gray and bland, filled with wispy, dark clouds. _What a dreary day_, Harry thought, hoping that tomorrow would be a brighter day.

Harry shook his head and turned from the window. He was letting his imagination get to him again. There was nothing to be afraid of—nothing to worry about. He had stopped the god from being born in Silent Hill and taken Heather with him. There was no way anything could happen again.

He crossed the room to the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the cabinet, and pulled out a plastic pitcher of water. As he began to pour, a stench, lying somewhere between rancid milk and rotten eggs, hit his nose. Harry almost gagged as he realized the odor was coming from the thick, crimson liquid oozing out of the pitcher into his glass.

Harry dropped the glass and the pitcher, the blood completely drained from his face. He blinked hard, and looked back down at the mess on the floor and was surprised to see nothing but the broken glass, felled pitcher, and a copious amount of water at his feet. No disgusting crimson liquid anywhere in sight.

"What's wrong with me? Pull it together," Harry scolded himself as he grabbed a handful of paper towels and began to wipe up the mess, taking special precaution with the sharp shards of glass. Setting the pile of wet paper towels on the counter, Harry picked up the remaining, smaller pieces of glass, then threw them in the trash. Then he reached for the paper towels but stopped short.

Harry suddenly found it difficult to breathe, as if the air had become thick and solid. As he struggled to take in a full breath, the pile of wet paper towels began to pulsate like a heart, connected to some unseen biological entity. The crimson hue seeped through the paper towels as they began to beat faster and faster. Tributaries of blood began to creep outward, and the same odor from earlier filled the air.

"No—" Harry managed to croak out as he took an unsteady retreating step. All of his strength had completed vanished, leaving his limbs heavy and unresponsive. Cold sweat trickled down the side of his face as he watched the veins continue to spread down the cabinets and across the kitchen floor.

_They found me— _

The words of the dream came back to Harry instantly, and his stomach dropped at the thought of the horrors of Silent Hill inexplicably returning. He mustered enough strength to stumble from the kitchen, avoiding the continuing invasion of the twisted world in his kitchen. Falling against the chair, Harry began to regain some semblance of strength, though his legs still felt like they would give way at any moment.

_"I've got to get out of here! I've got to get to Heather!"_ Harry frantically thought. Pushing off the couch with nothing else on his mind except his daughter, Harry staggered across the room to the front door, as things continued to worsen within the apartment. Without looking back, he threw open his front door, only to face a slight, pale woman flanked by something that had stepped right out of the streets of Silent Hill.

Startled, Harry stepped back, lost his footing, and hit the floor hard. He scrambled to get back to his feet and managed to put a few more feet between him and his unwelcome visitors. "Who the hell are you?" he spat.

"Harry Mason," the woman whispered knowingly. "My identity is of no consequence to you as your presence matters not. Alessa's heart must be filled with hatred, and then she must remember her true self. Yes, that is what must happen. Then, and only then can she ascend to birth our god."

Harry's brows turned down in anger. "You goddamned cult fanatics. We want no part of your sick plans for your god or whatever in the hell it is. Just leave us alone!"

"Leave you alone? But you have stolen Alessa's birthright and tainted her true destiny. It is my job to set the wrongdoings right and pave the way for paradise to be reborn. This worldly existence will be cleansed of all chaos and misery, remade in our lord's image. And you are the key to completing my task."

"That's not what Heather wants. She just wants to live a normal life. Why can't you people see that?!?"

"Oh! It's all clear now. You took her away in an effort to control god yourself," Claudia chuckled at this. "But our lord cannot be controlled by mortal hands. I, Claudia Wolf, have been appointed as one of god's chosen to bear witness to his rebirth. But you, Harry Mason, you are not one of his chosen—you're merely an instrument to secure his return."

_Claudia's going to kill me._ Harry came to the stone cold realization as he eyed the creature still lurking behind her.

Harry hoped that he could reason with her. "Your god isn't going to bring back paradise. You're being used, Claudia. Open your eyes—"

"You're just like the others. You have been blinded by this world," Claudia replied as she grabbed at the sides of her head, clenching her eyes closed. "But you will not lead me astray with your hollow words."

Despite her regal posture and precise speech, Harry figured that she was unstable, like so many other of the followers of Silent Hill's cult. There was no way he could reason with her, and though he didn't really want to harm the woman, she wasn't giving him much choice. Especially if she was going to stand between him and his daughter.

"I'm warning you and your pet to get out of my way."

"My god protects me. Tell me, what deity protects you?"

Harry stepped back, wishing that he had some type of weapon. But his gun was in his nightstand drawer, too far for him to get to at this point. His knife was also in his bedroom, hidden underneath some clothes. Even Heather's taser gun, which he insisted she carry though she usually didn't, was somewhere in her room. With the most effective

Harry scanned the room, hoping to spot something—anything—that he could use as a melee weapon. But nothing in the living room could even remotely function as a weapon. And as the hulking creature behind Claudia moved around her and towards Harry, he knew that he was in mortal danger.

Despite all the horrors he faced in Silent Hill, he never felt as vulnerable and weak as he did now. Harry couldn't seem to move fast enough, wasn't strong enough, and didn't dodge at the right time. And Harry felt the result of his misstep as a sharp pain ravaged his chest, courtesy of his attacker.

"My Missionary has completed his task," Claudia's voice seemed much farther away now as Harry fell backwards onto his recliner.

_Not like this,_ Harry regretfully thought. Harry could feel his life slipping away as his breathing became more laborious and his body temperature dropped sharply. Weakened from the loss of blood, Harry collapsed onto the floor, unable to move. He kept his eyes on Claudia, who simply looked down on him with an expression of triumph.

"Be at ease, knowing the world will be set right through your death, Harry Mason. Alessa will return, and she will find your dead body. Her hatred will boil, feeding our lord resting inside of her. Then, she will make her ascension as the mother of god."

Harry's mind wandered to Heather—how she would feel finding his body in their apartment, what horrors Claudia was putting her through at this very moment, what Heather would have to face without him. He had avoided telling her the complete story about her birth, which Harry thought was for the best. But it had come back to consume them. And Heather would find out the truth. But what would she think of him then? Would she hate him?

As Harry's breaths became more shallow, he hoped that Heather was strong enough to not succumb to Claudia's scheme. And that she would find allies that would help her defeat the darkness of Silent Hill and its followers. Sadly, she would have to do it without him.

Taking his last breath, Harry's eyes dilated and everything disappeared in a harsh white flash.

Notes:

Silent Hill belongs to Konami.


	2. Timely Intervention

I

Henry Townsend lazily rolled around in bed, his hand pasted to his forehead. The dreary rays of sun were dispersed unevenly throughout the room, creating more shadows than lighted areas. He opened his eyes slowly to the dim room then looked at his watch. It was eight o'clock in the evening.

_How long have I been sleep?_

Henry sat up and looked around. His tussled brown hair was messy and unstructured, yet somehow, it fit him. The slight stubble on his face, healthy complexion, and muscular tone all combined to give him to look of some actor from a popular television show, yet Henry chose to work as a free lance photographer.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed letting his feet adjust to the hard wood floor then stood. He quickly dressed in some jeans, a gray t-shirt, and a button down, white, collared shirt. He rolled the sleeves to about the middle of his forearm, threw on his brown boots and headed out of his bedroom.

Henry threw a glance toward his door just to see if anything had changed. It hadn't.

He had awoken yesterday morning to find that his door had been bolted, barred, chained, nailed, screwed, locked from the inside, which prevented him from leaving his apartment. No matter how much he screamed for help or banged at the door, no one would help him. It was as if they couldn't hear his pleas. Or maybe the entire world had turned against him and he was the only sane person left.

Either way, he was stuck with no way out. The windows wouldn't open or break. The phone didn't work. His cell phone didn't work. The television didn't work. No outside communication was capable in his apartment.

Henry thought he was having a bad dream, but when he awoke and found the same circumstance, he knew that something was wrong. Besides that, he had this uneasy feeling...it wasn't anything he could exactly pinpoint, but he was apprehensive and edgy. Something was horribly wrong and it was only a matter of time before something bog happened.

Lucky for Henry, he had enough food and water to last him another three weeks. But he didn't expect to be trapped in his apartment for three weeks. He didn't expect to be here for more than one day, but here it was day two and still no way out.

A quick glance at the space under the door revealed something that Henry didn't think he would ever see: a communication from the outside world. Well, maybe it wasn't that dramatic, but for Henry, it changed his entire outlook on the situation. Someone knew he was here—someone left him a note—surely they would realize that Henry hadn't replied to the note and send someone to check on him. Maybe it was the landlord leaving him a note or his neighbor, Eileen Gavin.

Henry rushed over and snatched the note from under the door. With trembling fingers, he opened the note, but was instantly disappointed by what he read.

HARRY IS DYING. HELP HIM.

"Harry is dying?" Henry said aloud. "Who the hell is Harry?"

Henry studied the note, trying to see if he recognized the handwriting. He then realized how he didn't know anyone that lived around him all that well to be able to recognize their handwriting.

"How can I help Harry when I can't leave my apartment?" he said again to no one but himself.

He padded into the living room, still undecided on what to do about the note. It was a strange note, written on crumpled paper that was smoothed out to slip easily under the door. Black ink, scratchy handwriting—the person could have been in a hurry. But who left it and who was Harry?

As Henry neared his couch, he suddenly felt a wave of dizziness over take him.

"Henry," a slight whisper resounded in his head. He turned in multiple directions in an attempt to find the origin of the voice. His eyes moved slower than his body, making everything have an afterimage. He felt like he was moving in slow motion underwater. Then it hit him, a wave of fatigue. He felt so tired, so drained. There was no way he would be able to stay on his feet.

Henry felt his body tumble forward toward the couch. However, instead of the overly soft comfort of the couch, Henry fell through the couch and tumbled onto a hard wood floor.

The fatigue was instantly gone and the dizziness passed. He looked up from his spot on the floor to find that he was in another apartment.

Henry got to his feet quickly and surveyed his surroundings. He was in a living room, nicely furnished. It opened into a kitchen, clean, no dishes in the sink, sanitary. A door was closed toward the back of the living room and another was on the opposite side. The thing that caught Henry's eye the most was the chained door in this apartment as well.

"So it's not just my apartment," Henry commented, glad that he wasn't the only one, but slightly apprehensive that something much bigger was happening, something he may not be able to have control over.

Henry took cautious steps toward the door near the kitchen. He put his ear to the door in hopes of hearing another person talking or at least breathing. Touching the doorknob gingerly, Henry waited a moment then turned it slowly.

The scene before Henry was now a bedroom. It was clean as well, but there was a sheet draped over the bed, and the shape of a body on that bed.

"What the hell?" Henry said as he fully opened the door and stepped slowly into the room.

He glanced around for anyone that may have been responsible for covering the body with a sheet or the perpetrator that put the body in its condition. He could feel sweat building in his palms and under his arms. Something wasn't right with this whole situation.

He moved slowly, suddenly aware of his own vulnerability in the situation. He hadn't checked the other door in the apartment, nor the bathroom off to the left, or any of the other hiding places that killers could hide. The killer could be under the bed, waiting for Henry to get close just to have another victim.

Henry shook his head, getting rid of those thoughts. Still they crept back and quickened his pulse.

He stepped slowly and carefully, listening for any sound that might give an intruder away: a cough, a wheeze, a shuffle, a sneeze, even a blink.

Henry made it to the side of the bed without incident. Carefully he reached for the sheet. Slowly. He was ready to jump back if anything happened. Closer. His heart was pounding in his ears now, disrupting his acute hearing. Slower. His hand touched the cotton sheet. Careful. He pulled back the sheet, ready to use it as a distracter if something happened.

Henry was relieved in a sense to find a motionless body underneath the sheet. A man lay on the bed with street clothes on: jeans, a gray t-shirt, brown jacket. The only thing that was wrong with him was the bloody wound in the middle of his stomach.

He then remembered the note.

"If this is Harry, then he's already dead. That note was garbage."

Henry went to drop the sheet, but he felt a cold grip tighten around his wrist. Henry's eyes went wide as the dead body had somehow come to life and now held him in a firm grip.

"Let me go..." Henry whispered, his breath short and ragged. He tried to pull back, but the wide-eyed man stayed with him, keeping his wrist imprisoned and suddenly becoming more active.

"H—h—he—hel—p—m—m—e—" the man stammered.

Henry could now tell the overly pale face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the cold, clammy feel of his hands. This man had lost a lot of blood and someone had left him for dead.

"H—Harry?" Henry said, trying to help the man back into the bed.

His eyes showed recognition of the name, but he didn't respond.

"I—I'm going to call an ambulance," Henry said and grabbed at his cell phone.

No reception.

He glanced around the room for a phone.

"Hold on," Henry said. He dashed into the living room and grabbed the phone, but it too was dead, just like his phone at home. He looked toward the front door and saw that the chains were gone—he had a way out.

He ran back into the bedroom. "Harry, I'm going to have to take you to the hospital," he pulled the man into a sitting position, then wrapped Harry's arm around Henry's shoulder. Henry then put his arm around Harry's waist.

"I know you might be in pain, but this is the only way I can save you," Henry apologized. He staggered out of the bedroom with Harry toward the front door. Harry managed to point to keys lying on the counter in the kitchen. Henry scooped them up and put them in his pocket. He then opened the front door and after a little bit of a struggle got Harry out of the door.

The apartment building was dark and quiet—too dark and quiet.

"Anybody here?" Henry shouted, but directed his voice away from Harry. "Someone's hurt and we need help!"

Silence was his only reply. He went to the first door he came to and kicked it. "Hey, we need help!" There was no response.

Henry didn't want to waste any time. He made his way down the hallway, concerned that Harry might start bleeding again. Before he knew it, he was out of the muggy apartment building and in the evening fog.

He figured that the lone car in the parking lot had to belong to Harry. He moved toward it, taking it as slow as possible in consideration of Harry. Henry propped him against the car as he unlocked the passenger door. Harry started to fall to the ground, but Henry managed to catch him and carefully place him in the car. Once Harry was in, Henry ran to the driver's side, got in, started the car, and roared out of the parking lot into the street.

"Just keep your eyes open," Henry coaxed as Harry's eyes began to roll into the back of his head. His head swaggered and Henry thought Harry was going to pass out.

Henry shook the man's leg. "Come on, stay with me—we're almost to the hospital."

Harry responded slightly and blinked a few times. They were slow and sleepy, but he managed to keep his eyes open.

II.

Henry tried to think of a hospital nearby. South Ashfield was still about twenty minutes away. Silent Hill—it was only a few minutes to Alchemilla Hospital. That was Harry's best bet of survival.

He made a quick left and two rights and found himself skidding to a stop in front of the hospital. For a moment, Henry doubted his decision. The hospital seemed quiet and deserted, much like the rest of the town now that he reflected on it. There were no other cars on the road nor any nightly joggers, or random animals darting through the darkness.

Henry shook off his concern and got out of the car, then carefully pulled Harry out of the car. He made it up the steps without incident and opened the front doors of the hospital. Much more than coincidence, a stretcher was sitting in front of them.

Even though he was suspicious, Henry carefully laid Harry on the stretcher.

"Harry, I'm going to get help. I'll be right back, just stay awake for me, okay?"

Harry's eyes confirmed that he understood what Henry was saying, but there was also something else—fear. Harry was afraid of something—was it this place? No, it was a hospital. Hospitals heal people, make them better, there was nothing dangerous or scary about this place.

However, Henry failed to fully convince himself of that. The dark hallways and foreboding silence told him that he had made a wrong choice. But there had to some someone that would help him.

Henry took two steps from the stretcher and turned around when he heard the squeak of wheels. A figure was pulling the stretcher into the darkness.

Henry saw the outfit and assumed it was a nurse.

"Excuse me, nurse?" he said.

The nurse continued to pull the stretcher into the shadows, which somehow did not sit well with Henry.

"Nurse, wait!" he picked up his pace. The nurse picked up pace too, rolling the stretcher faster down the hallway.

Before Henry knew it, he was running at full speed down the hallway chasing behind the stretcher and the runaway nurse.

Henry took a sharp left, following the nurse, but then she disappeared into a door. Henry ran to the door he thought the nurse had gone through, but it was locked.

"Open this door!" Henry yelled, suddenly unsure if he had the right door or not. There were so many doors that looked alike in the hallway and it was dark. Surely, the nurse intended to help Harry...maybe she was rushing to get him into the emergency room. Maybe she was so worked up about Harry that she didn't hear Henry calling her. Yes, that had to be it—she was dedicated to her job and went right into emergency mode, completely blocking out any distractions.

Still, Henry felt uneasy about brining Harry here and subsequently losing him. Before Harry could reflect on it any more, he saw a figure standing at the end of the hallway.

"Hello?" Henry nervously said. The hallway suddenly seemed darker and narrower, harder to escape if something happened.

The dim light revealed a long coat, dirty pants with town bottoms, dark shoes caked with mud or something, and a blade. Henry immediately took a step back, suddenly realizing that this hospital—it was infected with the same issues that his apartment was afflicted with. Something strange and twisted had taken over much more than his apartment, somehow this town of Silent Hill was affected too.

The figure stepped forward and that's when Henry knew he was in trouble. Instead of a normal head, a large red pyramid rested on its shoulders. It took one more step toward Henry then rushed at him.

Henry turned to run, but the floor became soft, throwing off his balance. He twisted and fell onto his shoulder. Realized the figure was only a few feet away, Henry flipped onto his back and tried to scurry away using his hands and feet. He hit a door then felt it give away behind him.

Suddenly, Henry was falling, falling, and then landed back in his bed.

He looked around stunned and panicked. What had happened? How was he back in his apartment? What was that thing with the pyramid head? Henry leaped out of his bed and ran towards the front door, but stopped when he saw the chains, bars, locks, and everything keeping him from leaving.

Somehow, he was stuck in his apartment again. And Harry was stuck at the hospital with that figure and the nurse. Henry slumped to the ground, wondering if Harry would be okay and if he would ever get out of his apartment.

Notes:

Skittlefratz: Glad you liked the story. You inspired me to write this second chapter.

Selphie Fan: Thanks for the review. This chapter may just give Harry hope of seeing Heather again...

Cat: Well, it's changed from a one shot, but I hope you like this chapter as well

Kronos106: I'm glad you liked the idea. It seemed that part was kind of glazed over in the game, so I thought it would be good to flesh it out just to see what happened. Now, the story's kind of gotten a life of its own. Let me know what you think

69-Bloody-Valentine-666: Creepy name, but thanks for the review. Glad you like the story.


	3. Brookhaven Hospital Revisited

I.

Opening his eyes was more of a task than Harry would have ever presumed before. He clenched his eyes shut in an attempt to get some more energy to fully open his eyes, but they were less than cooperative, keeping him in the dark. Harry relaxed for a moment, feeling himself leaving the hazy, dreamlike state of unconsciousness and re-entering the world he was accustomed to. Again, he opened his eyes, and this time, he was greeted by a harsh white light shining in his face.

Somehow, he had the strength to shield his eyes with his right arm, and angle himself away from the light with his left arm. A dull pain seeped through his body making movement more of a chore than a convenience.

Harry turned to the left and noticed the rusted, worn machinery probably used for some kind of monitoring off to the left of the bed he was on. Harry was puzzled...the last thing he remembered was being in his apartment...then something happened.

Harry sat up much too quickly and felt a wave of dizziness and nausea engulfed him. Harry leaned to the side and vomited, his stomach contracting hard to release whatever was in his stomach. Harry looked down at the puddle of indescribable liquid and noticed blood.

He coughed a few times and dragged the back of his hand over his mouth. Feeling only slightly better, Harry took a full look at the room.

It was definitely a hospital room. The walls and floors were tiled with green and white, the ceiling was plaster and white as well. The florescent lights flickered on and off randomly, but a lamp hovering over Harry kept some consistent luminance, despite being dim. Harry found that he was sitting on a stretcher, which was in the same shape as most of the machinery in the room: rusted, worn, and dirty.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to figure out what he was doing in a hospital. He suddenly remembered a woman...long white hair...gray, no black dress...in his apartment...the sponge...something strange...then...then...he simply couldn't remember. The memory was a fleeting feeling of danger and apprehension. Then he remembered someone else. A man, young, Henry...yeah, his name was Henry...Henry...something...Town...Townsend. He remembered the young man's face hovering over him with an expression of worry and distress. Then...then he was here.

Harry shook his head, finding it useless to continue to try to remember. All he could do now is figure out what to do now and where Heather was. He set his feet on the ground carefully, not wanting a repeat of earlier with nausea and dizziness. Once he was sure he could stand, Harry stood and stretched.

It was then that he noticed the small desk in the corner of the room. He looked at it curiously—he hadn't noticed it before and the room was no bigger than a college dormitory room. He walked over to the desk carefully and noticed a memo on top of scattered papers.

_The patient has recovered from his abdomen wound. My lord, I have done your bidding by bringing this man from the brink of death to be judged before you...please accept me into your paradise as a loyal and faithful servant._

Harry felt the pangs of fear creep into his mind. Above the memo was a bottle of pain relievers. He grabbed them and put them into his leather jacket packet. He searched the drawers frantically and found a gun and some bullets. A cell phone, which probably belonged to the doctor, sat underneath some papers, and Harry grabbed it as well, not sure what exactly he would do with a cell phone at this point.

Harry loaded the gun and turned to the door. He opened it carefully and poked his head out. The hallway was desolate and quiet...too quiet for a hospital. There were no doctors rushing to surgery, no nurses helping patients to their rooms, no visitors meandering around the hallways...nothing.

The hallway was in much the same condition as the room: dirty, rusty, and desolate. Harry noticed a lone stretcher down the hallway, the person lying on it covered with a white sheet. Hints of blood discolored the sheet in several places, giving Harry the feeling that something was not quite right with the body.

He slipped through the small crack in the door and let it close quietly. He pointed his gun at the stretcher and walked toward it carefully. He didn't want to see the body, didn't even want to get close to it, but somehow, he was drawn to it. There was something about it that called his name, beckoned to him to investigate.

His shoes tapped lightly on the ground as he moved closer, readying himself to move at the slightest inclination of peril. His throat tightened as he closed the distance...his breathing was almost non-existent. He kept the gun steady and pointed at the body, knowing that he was capable of firing if there was any indication that he needed to.

Closer.

Harry's heart was beating out of his chest and his mind was racing. What was he afraid of...it was only a body underneath a sheet. No, it wasn't. It was much more than that...it was a sign, a symbol.

Closer.

No, it was simply a body...there was nothing evil or sinister or even remotely dangerous about it. It was a lifeless body, left in the hallway by some inattentive nurse. But where was she now?

Closer.

Harry realized he hadn't blinked for the past minute, afraid that in that half second of darkness, the body would spring up and catch him unaware, making him a partner underneath that sheet.

He reached his left hand out carefully toward the sheet. He was ready to draw his hand back at any sudden movement and fire with other hand. The sheet was crisp under his touch and stuck to his sweaty palm. He pulled carefully and discovered what was under the sheet, which wasn't a human body.

II.

"What the hell is a mannequin doing here?" Harry said in a hushed voice.

A lifeless mannequin, void of any facial features, lay underneath the sheet. Harry wondered if it had been placed there as a joke, or maybe it was a practice dummy, or even a prop for some kind of hospital drill.

Harry sighed loudly, cursing himself for getting so worked up.

"There's nothing here...nothing's going on...it's all in your head," he said to himself. He found himself smiling at his panic and illogical conclusions. He looked at his watch and saw that it was a little past midnight.

That was it. He must be at one of the smaller hospitals on the outskirts of town, maybe even a clinic. It was late, so a small clinic like this would have a minimal staff at night and patients wouldn't stay overnight, which would explain the lack of personnel and patients. But it still didn't explain why he found the strange memo on the desk, the gun in the drawer, and why he felt that something still wasn't quite right. Even in a poor town, the clinic would be the cleanest place, yet this clinic seemed rundown and dirty. Even the lights didn't work exactly as they should.

Harry turned from the mannequin and gazed down the hallway. He could see the sign for the elevator up ahead. He shook his head and walked toward the sign.

A piecing scream froze Harry in place. He spun quickly and saw the mannequin's head on the ground, blood caked at the neck. He looked toward the stretcher and saw blood pouring from a jagged area where the neck should have connected to the head.

Harry took an unsure step backwards. It was all surreal...the red blood, the featureless face lying on its right side on the floor, the scream still echoing in his ears.

He spun on his heel and ran for the elevator.

III.

Harry heard a pounding noise, which continued to increase in intensity. It reverberated all around him as his shoes tapped lightly on the linoleum floor.

Harry knew the layout of the floor...all he had to do was run to end of the hall, go left through the double doors, and follow the next hallway to the end. The elevator would be right there.

Then Harry came to the realization that he did indeed know the layout of the hospital—it wasn't a clinic. None of the explanations he came up with earlier seemed to matter, because Harry came to the realization that he was in Brookhaven Hospital. It was then that Harry realized the pounding sound pursuing him was nothing more than his own heart beating wildly.

He reached the elevator, and it opened without hesitation when he pressed the down arrow. The doors closed quietly, and the elevator descended smoothly.

But then Harry realized he didn't press a button. Someone or something was controlling the elevator. Harry readied his gun and pointed it toward the doors. The elevator stopped just as smoothly and opened its doors.

The corridor was empty from what Harry could see of it. It was ominously quiet with no sign of anyone having been there.

He kept his gun pointed in front of him as he took slow, deliberate steps into the hallway. He suddenly wished he had a flashlight. Shadows turned normal objects into menacing-looking creatures of the night, ready to come to life and pounce on anyone that dared to stray too close. The silence was heavy and oppressing, like it was waiting to swallow innocent victims whole.

Harry glanced around cautiously, pointing his gun into every corner and at every shadow, only turning away when he was absolutely sure that the shadow was nothing more than a shadow.

He turned to the left, hoping to get to the front door, when a piercing scream shattered the ebbing silence. Harry immediately identified the scream as coming from the first door on the left. If memory served him correctly, it was the doctor's lounge.

Harry kept his gun level and eyes fixated on the door. He put one hand on the knob and pushed the door open, quickly returning his hand to the gun, steadying it.

Two individuals turned toward him, both with different expressions on their faces. A woman was on the floor, appearing as though she had fallen or been pushed into her present position. Her long black hair was only slightly disheveled from whatever happened, but the look on her face said something completely different. Tears were brimming at the edge of her dark blue, almost violet eyes and her arm was positioned as to ward off any further attacks.

On the other hand, a male loomed over her. He was obviously a doctor, still dressed in the light blue scrubs, cap, and face mask. The only thing clearly visible was his eyes, which scared Harry. They were an olive color, with orange specks...menacing and penetrating. The part of his face that Harry could see seemed darker than it should be...almost dirty.

"What the hell is going on here?" Harry tried to sound brave, but he realized that he had stumbled into something that was much deeper than he thought.

The doctor stepped back from the woman and crossed his arms. "Well, I didn't expect you to be up so soon, Mr. Mason." His voice was husky and stern.

The woman used the interruption to scramble to her feet, backing away from the doctor and towards Harry.

The doctor looked Harry up and down for a long while. Then he said, "Pretty good work I did."

"You are sick!" the woman seethed. "I won't be your victim anymore—you run this hospital like it's your personal playground and use us like your toys. You won't keep me trapped here any longer."

The hatred in her voice was evident. Harry wondered just what had happened before he had walked in and what would have happened if he hadn't walked in. He kept a suspicious eye on the woman, but allowed her to step closer.

The doctor took a step toward the woman, and Harry stepped forward with the gun pointed at his chest.

"I don't know what's going on here, but just stay back," Harry commanded.

The woman backed up until she was slightly behind Harry.

"Is that anyway to treat the doctor that gave you a new lease on life, Mr. Mason? Surely, you would have died if not for my hands," he lifted his hands, palms facing Harry.

Blood began to seep through the rubber gloves and drip to the floor. "See, these hands are blessed by our god."

The woman gasped and Harry heard her take another step back. Harry followed suit and stepped back as well.

"You...you're not well," Harry weakly said.

The doctor turned to the desk and grabbed a scalpel, and began to advance on Harry and the woman. "Maybe I'll just have to reopen your wound, Harry," the doctor drew out his name leaving behind a sense that this doctor was no longer human.

Harry backed out quickly, keeping the woman behind him. He slammed the door and was surprised to find that it had a lock on the outside. He quickly pushed the lock then bolted the door.

The doctor banged on the door, determined to get out. Harry backed up further until he hit the wall. Startled, he turned toward the woman.

"His hands...they were bleeding...why?" she shook her head in disbelief.

Harry could tell that the situation shook her up more than the apparent abuse she was getting. "We've got to get out of here," he said and ran toward the front door. The woman followed with no hesitation. Harry was surprised to find the front door to the hospital open. They dashed through the doors and out into the cool, damp air.

Harry turned left and ran down Carroll Street, the woman keeping pace with him. He turned down an alley and realized that the alley actually led to a set of stairs with a door at the top.

"This way," he said as he ascended the steps two at a time. A sign hung above the door, the name Heaven's Night glowed with blue and red neon.

The door was open. The duo dashed in and shut the door. Harry found a chair to prop against the door. It wouldn't hold anything for long, but at least it would give them a headstart on anything that tried to burst in.

When they felt that they could relax a little, Harry and the woman slid into a booth, trying to comprehend what was going on.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked. It was a simple, routine question, yet it offered a chance for people to open up.

The woman nodded, but stayed silent.

"What happened back there?"

The woman seemed to relive through the entire experience before speaking. "I'm a nurse at the hospital. My name is Tina—it's actually Christina, but I go by Tina. I only have one friend that calls me Christie—Kara," she smiled at the thought of Kara calling her name from far down the hall. "Anyways, there was this patient—he was every bit strange as he was talkative. He always tried to talk to me, almost flirt with me—but there was something about him, something—dangerous. Stanley—Stanley Coleman—I won't forget him—he was so weird and on top of that, he always talked about some fictional woman.

He grabbed my arm, asking me to take him to the one he loved. I slapped his hand away just from reflex. However, the chief of security caught me on camera. He's so strange too—maybe he should have been locked up with the patients.

He called me into his office and showed me the tape, cutting out the part with Stanley grabbing me. He told me I was a worthless bitch and I deserved to be punished. He moved around to the door so quick. Before I could do anything, he grabbed me and began groping me, telling me that I would like it or be locked in solitary confinement. He told me that he could do that—no one would miss me. No one would even know I was gone.

I tried to fight back, but he was strong, much stronger than he looked. He tore my blouse and—Kara happened to have to go to the chief's office and she saw what was happening through the window. She used her key to open the door quietly and snuck up on the chief. She picked up a paperweight and hit him in the head. He slumped over me—I thought he was dead.

Kara helped me up and we ran out of there. Kara made a report to Dr. Killian, and then she took me home. I came back the next day to tell Killian that I quit, but that was when he trapped me in his office. There was suddenly something strange about him, something evil. He...he struck me and told me that I wasn't going anywhere."

Tina stopped the story there, pushing some of her hair out of her face.

"And that was when I showed up," Harry said.

Tina nodded. "I don't know what he would have done...his eyes were so strange and he...he wasn't himself. He's usually so nice and would have been appalled to hear that the chief of security had tried to..." she trailed off, suddenly realizing that gravity of what could have happened.

Tina wiped away a tear, before continuing. "Everything has been so strange lately...things at the hospital, even on the street. When I went to Killian's office, I noticed the foggy weather and that the hospital was almost completely deserted. I tried to call Kara the night before, but my phone kept cutting out."

Harry was responsive the entire time she talked, listening to her story intently, and finally deciding that she was somehow drawn into this nightmarish would just as he was.

"Tina, there's something wrong with this town—something strange. You've noticed it yourself, but it gets a lot worse."

"Worse—what's going on here?"

Harry sighed hesitant to tell her the story, fearing rejection or disbelief. Still, it seemed they were going to be trapped in Heaven's Night for a while, so he sighed and began the events that now spanned seventeen years.

Tina returned the courtesy of listening intently, her face showing true concern and a bit of fear. She never interrupted and waited until he was finished to say something.

"It sounds crazy—you realize that it's difficult for me to believe, but with everything that's happened, I can't rule out what you've experienced. Your story also reminds me of some things I've heard—rumors among the nurses about a girl, seventeen years ago, kept in a secret part of the hospital. She was on the verge of death, yet somehow, she stayed alive. A former nurse here took pity on the girl and took care of her, but the weirdness of the situation really bothered her. From what I know, she disappeared along with the girl."

Harry nodded. He couldn't bring himself to tell the truth about the nurse, Lisa Garland. He could see her face, her torn face as she realized that she was dying. Harry slammed the door on her, unable to face her, unable to help. There was nothing he could do.

"Harry?' Tina asked, noticing the pensive expression on his face.

He was jolted out of his thoughts. "Sorry, I was just thinking about what's going on. We'll wait here a few more minutes then head out. I have to find my daughter—and something tells me she is somewhere in this town."

Thee was a break in conversation, Harry and Tina both finding solace in the silence. After a few minutes, Tina's dark blue—no, violet eyes looked deep into Harry's own eyes.

"Thank you," she said. She didn't elaborate or feel the need to go over what she was thanking him for. Tina just wanted him to know that she was grateful, not only for Harry saving her, but also for just being there with him. Even though she didn't know him, she felt a trust, a bond growing between them, forged through adversity, nurtured by fear.

Harry gave back a genuine smile, despite everything that had happened.

"Let's get going," Harry said.

Notes:

Christie is a character in Silent Hill 3. When exploring the alternate version of Brookhaven Hospital in the Special Treatment room, a note is scribbled by an unknown person, which says, "The Chief is a pervert! Christie would have been better off if she had been fired..."

Skittlefratz: Glad you liked the reappearance of Pyramid Head. Your reviews are very interesting when you're tired...

Richard B. Sampson: The two stories will be merging soon; hopefully within the next few chapters

Cat: Hope you like the new chapter. Everyone's reviews have really been keeping me going on this one. It's like new ideas just keep popping up.

Shortey: Glad you like my work!


	4. The House in Silent Hill

I.

Harry led the way into the foggy alleyway, and Tina, a nurse he saved from a less than sane doctor, followed closely behind. They sought refuge in Heaven's Night and taken a few minutes to recover from the ordeal. Once they told their stories and realized that the town was much more dangerous then they initially thought, they set out—Harry with the intention of finding his daughter—Tina simply helping as payment for saving her from an undesirable, intimate meeting with Dr. Killian.

They walked in silence, Harry keeping a close watch for any creatures stalking them under the cover of the fog. So far, they were without incident, but Harry knew that when they least expected it, something would come up.

Though it was his second time to the accursed Silent Hill, something felt different about the town this time around. It wasn't anything that Harry could exactly put his finger on, but he could _feel_ something powerful—evil—just out of reach, but keeping close. And there was no doubt that the evil was after Heather.

But why now? Why after seventeen years? Harry knew it was his own fault for staying so close to Silent Hill. But the evil was destroyed. He and Cybil stopped the cult's god from being born, and Alyssa was reborn, all of her past being erased with her rebirth. But something happened—it was that woman. The woman with the long white hair and dark dress. Claudia—it was her. She somehow was at the center of all this madness. And she had tried to kill Harry.

Not only did he have to find Heather, but he had to see if he could locate the man that saved him, Henry Townsend. But he didn't know the first place to look. He hadn't seen the man before—which led Harry to the question: how did he know where I was?

Someone wanted him alive. The doctor somehow healed him of his fatal wound00maybe even resurrected him, who knows? But Harry realized that his resurrection wasn't coincidence—someone had a reason for keeping him alive. And that reason couldn't have been good.

He focused back on the task at hand. He had to find Heather. Harry figured that he would find out the grand scheme in due time. As long as he had the ability, he resolved to find his daughter, no matter what the cost.

"Harry, wait," Tina's voice a hushed whisper.

Harry immediately stopped walking and listened.

Footsteps. Several footsteps. Running down the street.

Footsteps meant other people. Running meant they were in the same boat as Harry and Tina.

"Let's go," he said. Before Tina could protest, Harry erupted into a sprint, 9mm in hand. Tina kept pace a few feet behind him, suddenly feeling inadequately prepared for whatever they were bound to come across. She just hoped that whatever chased after the good guys didn't turn on them.

II.

The theater door slammed as Harry and Tina arrived to get a good view of the area. But then, Harry focused on the strange flying creatures that stuck to the doors and ambled in front of the theater.

The fog still obscured the creatures somewhat, but from what Harry could tell, the creatures were something that he'd never seen before: long neck, sharp features, sleek body, lashing tail, and jagged teeth. Harry silently cheered for those that escaped, hoping that none of them fell victim to the creature's desire to dine on human flesh.

However, the creatures now separated Harry and Tina from the other people who may be more lost souls in Silent Hill. There were about twenty creatures, but some flew off while some returned keeping the number fluctuating slightly. Still, that was too many to try to take out with his gun. Before he could put three down, the others would quickly swarm over him and Tina.

He glanced to the right of the theater, but there was only fog. To the left was a lonely house. There was nothing extravagant or overly inviting about the house, but if they could get to the backyard, they could probably get into a back door of the theater.

"Tina, let's try that house over there. We can go through the backyard and get into the back of the theater."

Tina estimated the location of the house and imagined the backyard opening up to an emergency exit of the theater. Once inside, they would meet up with the others and have safety in numbers. She nodded in agreement.

Harry noticed the phone vibrating, its intensity depending on how close or far he was from the monsters. _From old static-filled radios to cell phones—at least Silent Hill keeps up with the times,_ Harry shook his head in spite of himself.

The creatures were so preoccupied with the people in the theater that they failed to notice Tina and Harry creeping slowly toward the adjacent house only twenty feet away. It isn't that Tina and Harry weren't easy targets—that wasn't the issue. The creatures had one mission at this point—to keep the teens inside the theater. That single thought was the prevailing objective in their mind—even food came secondary to their initial goal. Soon enough, they would have the chance to feat on the two humans. And they would ensure a slow, agonizing feast.

III.

Tina closed the front door behind them, thankful that they were inside of a house. Since she and Harry had left the hospital, Tina kept feeling as though something terrible was going to happen. It wasn't a single feeling or something that she could clearly describe—it was more like a nagging uneasiness, a remote feeling of peril, and an impression of impending disaster all at once but not quite that. There was no single way to describe it no matter how Tina tried.

She remained by the door as Harry surveyed the first floor. He poked his head in the kitchen, living room, and hallway, ensuring some random creatures hadn't found their way inside, waiting for some hapless soul to wander in. The basement door being locked from the inside concerned Harry, but he dismissed it as he inspected the rest of the floor. Surprisingly, the bottom floor was void of any of the normal monstrosities that wandered the streets. But there was still the second floor.

"Stay here," Harry told Tina as he ascended the stairs. The second floor was much like the first floor—several doors that couldn't be opened, a few cluttered rooms, and an unsanitary and filthy bathroom. Harry finished his scan of the second floor in only a few minutes.

He headed back downstairs to find Tina waiting patiently by the door.

"Find anything?" Tina asked.

Harry shook his head. Besides being overly grimy and disorganized, there didn't seem to be anything noteworthy about the house..

"No—looks like we're safe here," Harry said as he tucked his 9mm into his belt. "Relatively speaking given the circumstances," he added. "If we find other people, we can use this place as a safe hideout."

Harry took a moment to check his gun, the phone, and his flashlight, which was still in his jacket pocket.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, something feels creepy about this place."

Tina followed Harry around a corner and down a short hallway to the back door. Harry tugged on the door, but it simply wouldn't open. "That's kind of weird," Harry said more to himself than anything. Then he said to Tina, "Let's just go back out the front. Maybe there's another way around back.

They turned the corner and stopped in their tracks. The front door swayed gently in a gentle wind that carried fog with it.

"Harry, I closed that door," Tina clarified without waiting for Harry to ask any questions. Harry pulled out his gun and briskly walked toward the door. Before he got within arm's reach, the door slammed shut.

Then there was a noise upstairs. Harry spun and pointed his gun at the top of the stairs at the same time. Tina reacted quickly—she sprinted past Harry to the front door. She wrenched on the knob, but to no avail.

"Harry, it won't open," she dashed to a window. With all her strength he tugged on the window, but she might as well not even tried at all. "The windows are stuck!" she relayed.

Harry decided escape was more important than confronting whatever may or may not have entered the house. He grabbed a chair and threw it against a window, but the chair bounced off the window and toppled to the floor.

Tina tried throwing a paperweight through the window, but her result was the same as Harry's. He returned to the bottom of the stairs and studied the wall.

Something was suddenly scrawled up the wall at the same angle as the stairs, like someone—probably something—wrote it as it climbed the stairs. Harry backed up slowly until he could see the entire wall clearly.

Tina ran up behind him and stopped. "He loves me, he loves me not," a shiver ran through Tina as she read the crimson letters. "Harry, someone else is in this house."

He walked forward and began up the stairs.

"You're not going up there, are you?"

Harry nodded. "Whatever's here wants us to find it, so that's what we're going to do."

Tina closed the gap between her and Harry, keeping as close as possible without running into him. She tried to quiet her breathing as they crept down the hallway. Harry tried the doors from before, but they still would not open.

The bathroom door was still open. Harry stepped inside the spacious bathroom. The sink, mirror, and toilet were on the left and the bathtub was around a corner on the right. He walked to the tub and pulled back the curtain.

A red book lie in the center of the blood stained tub. He reached down and picked it up. It appeared to be a diary of some kind, judging from the lack of a title and the ribbon bookmark attached to the spine of the book.

He flipped through it quickly, suddenly uneasy as he glanced at the various pages.

he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not

Harry flipped more pages, but the same thing was written on every page from the top to the bottom, squeezed onto the page in every direction possible in the same exact handwriting.

_What the hell?_ Harry thought. Who would have written something like this in a diary and what state of mind were they in?

"Tina look at this—" but when Harry turned to show Tina the strange diary, he found that he was alone. Harry closed the diary and threw it back in the tub. "Tina?" he called.

Harry stepped past the sink and mirror and paused at the door. He failed to take even a quick glance at the mirror, which showed Tina being forcibly dragged out of the bathroom by something with a red pyramid for a head. He completely missed the last traces of Tina as she disappeared into the dark, reverse hallway.

IV.

Henry Townsend slid down the wall next to his front door, throat raw and hands bleeding from yelling and beating on his front door. He knew that someone had to hear him. These walls weren't that thick and the apartments weren't that far apart. It was impossible for him to believe that no one had at least called the cops on him for the racket he was making.

But there were no concerned (nice way of saying nosy) neighbors, no superintendent of the building, no sirens, nothing that indicated a rescue from his imprisonment.

But it didn't make any sense. Why was he locked in his now soundproof and escape-proof apartment? How could someone have sneaked in, chained up his door from the inside and locked all the windows without him knowing? There was simply no way that could have happened—yet, here he was.

Then there was Harry Mason.

A note had been slipped underneath his door telling him to save Harry, and next thing Henry knew, he was swept away from his apartment to another apartment complex, somewhere outside of Silent Hill. And there is where he found the man, on the brink of death, obviously presumed dead by someone else.

Henry rushed Harry to the hospital only to have him whisked away by a strange nurse and Pyramid Head (somehow the name just made sense) stopped him in his tracks. He was almost killed, but instead, Henry found himself once again inside of his apartment, trapped and alone.

He sighed pitifully, unsure of what to do now. He couldn't leave—he had exhausted all means of escape: the windows, the doors, shouting, screaming, breaking through the wall, the phone, and the vent. There was simply no way out.

Henry let his head rest against the wall for a moment before he heard a piece of paper slide underneath the door.

He leapt to his feet and screamed, "Hey, wait! I'm trapped! Help! Please!" Henry pounded his fists against the door, feeling a knot form in his stomach as he realized the messenger was long gone. His eyes clenched shut and he ell to his knees.

What had he done to deserve this? He couldn't think of any logical reason that he would be imprisoned—he had committed no heinous crime and never crossed anyone. By most standards, Henry was a nice guy. Yet, here he was, on the brink of madness trapped in his own apartment with strange notes being slipped to him.

The red paper seemed to call out to Henry, snapping him out of his spiral into despair.

He unfolded it quickly, and glanced over the scribble.

HELP ME—TINA.

"Tina?" he repeated. Who the hell was Tina? And did this have something to do with Harry? Henry's head was spinning and he felt like vomiting, but before he could, he felt himself sinking.

Henry forced himself to open his heavy lids, and saw that he was sinking into his floor, like quicksand hungrily swallowing another victim. He couldn't even protest as the foul smelling liquid that the floor somehow became washed over his mouth—then his nose—then the top of his head.

Notes:

Crazyb1tch85: Thanks again for your reviews. Harry will definitely get the chance to save Heather soon enough...

havenoname: As you see, Henry has been once again summoned to help. This time, Tina's the one in danger, but surely he'll meet Harry again.

Kalevispetke: Hope you like the new chapter.

Shortey: Well, it looks like something not so good is in store for Tina. let's just hope Henry can make it to her in time.

Cat: Thanks for that catch. When I was writing and researching, I didn't even realize there were two different hospitals in the game (even through they are pretty much the same, I think—it's been a while since I've played). I think I chose Brookhaven in the end and corrected it. Thanks!


	5. No Escape

I.

In normal circumstances, darkness was nothing more than the absence of light. It was in fact a necessary part of life—there could be no light without darkness. However, in this instance, the darkness represented much more than the other half of a complete idea—it now represented the unknown. The dark served as a shroud for things that rejected the light. There was no up, down, high, low, near, or far—just a vast nothingness.

It was there that Tina suddenly found herself. And she knew she was in trouble.

Only a few minutes ago, she was behind Harry Mason, whose timely intervention saved her from something horrible at the hands of Dr. Killian. They left the hospital together then found themselves in a large house. Upon investigating a bathroom, Tina heard a strange noise—something like a dying siren—echoing in her head. Before she could call out to Harry, he vanished. In fact, everything simply vanished and for a moment, there was only the dark. Then everything slowly reappeared, but it wasn't the same as before.

The walls and ceiling became streaked with mold and decay. The floor morphed into a rusted, grated platform. The decorations in the bathroom vanished, leaving behind grotesque and warped versions of pictures, magazines, and any other small item in the bathroom. The tub overflowed, bathing the room in a metallic, repellant odor.

Tina took a step back, wondering exactly what had happened. Was she hallucinating? Maybe she was daydreaming—or had somehow fallen asleep. Yeah, that had to be it. She was asleep and in a nightmare world. That's the only way that she could explain what had happened. But she didn't feel asleep. That strange feeling of knowing that she was dreaming didn't even faintly come to her. This world felt as real as the other and that in itself sent a shiver down Tina's back.

"Harry?" Tina squeaked out. She couldn't believe how weak and frightened she sounded. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart as she took another step out of the bathroom. But then, she bumped into something—something large, maybe a person, but much more solid than a normal person.

Tina froze, scared to turn around—scared to confront the thing that now stood uncomfortably close to her. But she was afraid of not knowing what loomed over her. If she were attacked, she would die without ever seeing the face of her killer. She quickly spun around, and instantly regretted it.

She now faced a man's body with a red pyramid for a head, which now loomed dangerously over her. Its hunched shoulders moved silently up and down, as if it were breathing, but without a mouth or nose, there was no way it could breathe. Its tattered long white coat reminded her of a doctor's coat, but the long fingers and knotted hands were those of a killer, not a healer.

She tried to back away, but the creature moved quickly. It grabbed one arm, then the other. Against a normal man, Tina's aggressive reaction would have succeeded in her escape. She wrenched against its grip and tried to lower her center of gravity, but the strength of the creature was unbelievable. It gripped her arms tightly and dragged her out of the bathroom.

"No, no—let me go! No!" Tina screamed through gritted teeth as a means to give herself strength—to help her believe she was going to get away.

The thing dragged her toward the stairs. Her mind instantly went to the horror stories about people being dragged down to the basement and terrible things being done to them—anything from being bathed in wax to becoming a crazed family's dinner to being sliced to ribbons by a psycho with knives for fingers.

In a quick move, Tina reversed her struggling and rammed her shoulder into the chest area of Pyramid Head. It stumbled back, caught off guard by the maneuver. Its grip loosened and Tina quickly pulled back, freeing herself from Pyramid Head.

She turned to the left, but as fate would have it, her ankle twisted and she flailed helplessly. Tina's momentum caused her to slam against the balcony, then that same momentum carried her over the banister. Tina couldn't even scream as she hit the unforgiving floor.

II.

Harry Mason felt his pulse quicken and sweat begin to trickle down his back. Maybe it was instinct or maybe he was just paranoid, but something told him that Tina was in horrible danger. And now he knew that the stakes had just gotten higher.

"Tina?" he shouted down the hallway. His voice was absorbed by the narrow corridor decorated with shabby, blue wallpaper. From what he could tell, there was no one else there—yet, he distinctly felt as if he were being watched.

Pulling out his gun, Harry took deliberate steps down the hallway, scrutinizing every aspect of the hallway: the locked doors, darkened corners, and foggy windows. Slowly, he made his way back to the top of the stairs then continued on to the other part of the hallway. As he walked he began to notice a putrid stench creeping into the air.

A blinding pain crippled Harry as he stepped out into the hallway. He felt like a scorching poker had been shoved through his eye and left to sizzle inside of his skull. The world felt as if it were spinning, rocking, and bouncing all at once causing vomit to rise in his throat. Harry choked it back reflexively and tried to crawl away from the torture.

As quickly as the spell washed over him, it abated, leaving him drained and confused. As Harry climbed to his feet, he realized exactly what had happened.

The floor no longer sported a pale green carpet lined with mildew yellow, but now existed as a rusty, grated pathway down a hallway now lined with gritty walls and sprayed with unidentifiable human stains. The smell of decay seeped through the area, giving Harry the distinct feeling that something else was now in the house with him.

Before Harry could assess his next move, he felt a small vibration in his pocket. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone. It vibrated only slightly at first, but slowly intensified. Something was coming.

Harry gazed back toward the bathroom while slipping the phone back in his pocket. A slender shadow moved cautiously in the bathroom. The long shadow fell across the hallway onto the wall, totally distorting the true size and shape of its owner. It swaggered back and forth for a moment then began to shrink as its owner came closer to the doorway.

From the doorway came a four-legged creature—something that remotely resembled a canine, but there were obvious signs that it was completely wrong. Its midsection had what looked like medical tape wrapped repeatedly around a sleek but slimy, gristly body. It plodded along like an old dog, loudly sniffing the air then returning its eyeless head back to a natural drooping position. For whatever reason, the dog creature let an elongated tongue drag on the ground, only narrowly missing stepping on its own extra appendage. Thick, heavy saliva trailed behind it, and its breath came out in short, yellow puffs. The dog creature randomly stopped to uncontrollably shake as if jolted by a strong shock, but would continue on afterward as if unaffected by the seizure.

Harry lifted his gun slowly. If he timed it right, he could fire off quite a few rounds before it even noticed him. But Harry froze as another leaped from the doorway, landing in front of the first. They snapped at each other and growled angrily, a low primal growl that sent a shiver up Harry's spine. A third moved carefully around those two then stopped, its head reared toward Harry.

His mouth went dry and his muscles tensed. With three of the creatures lurking together, Harry was sure as soon as he fired at one, the other two would rush him. So, shooting them was out of the question. And there were no doors left for him to duck into. So, Harry did the most logical thing he could think of—run.

III.

Despite being lost in a fog of unconsciousness, Tina felt a firm hand on her arm. The grip tightened and became an urgent shake accompanied by muffled whispers. As unconsciousness slipped away, the whispers became hushed but urgent pleas.

"Wake up—can you hear me? You've got to wake up."

The grogginess was quickly replaced by an ebbing pain in her head. She slightly shook her head, but stopped when the world felt as if it were spinning at hundreds of miles per hour. "Harry?" she mumbled.

"No—Henry," the unrecognizable voice responded.

The only other voice she should have woken up to was Harry Mason's calm and reassuring voice. But this one was filled with weariness, fear, and uncertainty.

Her eyes allowed her to escape the vast darkness, and enter a blurry haze, which then quickly focused into normal vision. Now, the voice was matched with a face.

In front of her now sat a reasonably handsome man, with shaggy brown hair and an unshaven face. His dark brown eyes reflected urgency and concern, but also slight reservation, like he wasn't sure of what he was doing. She felt his eyes study her for a moment before addressing her again.

"Can you walk?" Instead of waiting for an answer, he followed with, "We've got to get out of here. Now."

Tina couldn't quite catch what he was saying, or why it was so important for them to leave. Besides, should she really leave with some stranger, especially after what just happened? Tina shifted slightly, but then hesitated. Going off with a stranger definitely wasn't a good idea.

"No—I mean, yes. I don't think anything's broken. I can walk, but who—who are you?"

He grabbed her hand. "I'm Henry Townsend and we're getting out before that thing notices us."

Henry pointed toward Pyramid Head. It now stood in front of another door and there was someone in front of it. No, there was something horribly wrong. Tina's eyes focused and she figured out what was wrong. The woman standing in front of Pyramid Head wasn't standing—she was impaled with a large blade, stuck to a door. Her feet dangled almost a foot from the ground. Strange gurgling noises managed to escape her throat as blood dribbled down her chin.

Tina froze again, imagining herself falling victim to the same fate. That thing—Pyramid Head—it was dragging her off to do the same thing. But something must have happened while she was unconscious. Regardless, she was alive and now had the chance to escape again, without the worry of panic taking her over another ledge.

Henry felt the woman tense up for a moment then she gingerly but swiftly got to her feet. He grabbed her hand, intending on leading her out of the bedroom and hopefully out of the house without incident.

A queasy feeling suddenly settled in Tina's stomach, but she took a slow breath and continued to trail behind Henry as he carefully made his way through the room. He carefully stepped over anything that even had a remote chance of making a noise: books, clothes, shoes, and anything else that looked even slightly noisy. Then, the door was only a few feet away—maybe they could make it out without being seen.

Everything was happening too fast. Tina's mind raced in an attempt to comprehend what exactly happened and what was presently going on. Who was that woman? How did the pyramid thing get into the house? Where was Harry? Hell, for that matter, where was she? And how did Henry find her?

Though the mind can process information at a high speed, the body was a much slower entity—it needed time to get back to peak performance. The disconnect between her mind and body created uncharacteristic disorientation and clumsiness. In normal situations, Tina was light on her feet and quite agile. But now, as her foot caught the leg of a chair, she could do nothing but gasp before she pitched forward, falling heavily against Henry. The unexpected force threw Henry forward and they both hit the floor.

As soon as Tina hit the floor, her eyes went straight to Pyramid Head. If it had eyes, they would have made eye contact, an assessment of each other's intentions. But Tina already knew—Pyramid Head intended to kill them.

IV.

The low, guttural growl seemed to reach into the depths of Harry's soul and shake him to the core. These creatures were unnatural—something created with killer instinct. Their slender, almost malnourished bodies, the long and sharp teeth, and dark coal eyes told of relentless hunting and painful feasting.

Harry knew if he decided to fire, it would be a short battle. One shot would quickly alert them to his presence and send them in a charging frenzy. He presumed they were fast—too fast for him to even wound all of them, let alone successfully kill them. His only chance would be to run.

An unsteady step backward and the consequent creaking of a loose floorboard was enough to alert the rabid hellhounds that they had another victim. They perked their head up, loudly sniffing the air. They caught Harry's scent—shower fresh deodorant, cologne, and slight perspiration.

The three hellhounds immediately broke into a sprint towards Harry.

In a quick move, Harry spun on his heel and pushed forward, pumping his arms and legs as fast as possible. He was running too fast to go back down the stairs—the hellhounds would easily overtake him as he clumsily tumbled down the stairs. Instead, he kept running straight then made a sharp right turn at the end of the hallway.

The first hellhound attempted the sharp turn, but slid on the hallway rug and smashed into the wall with a slight yelp. The other two negotiated the turn well and made a loud sound—a cross between a bark and howl—as they closed the gap between them and Harry.

The end of the hallway loomed close—closer than Harry wanted. Most of the doors were probably locked—the only way out was the open window at the end. Adrenaline pushed Harry forward, clouding his sense of judgment. Right now, the only thing on Harry's mind was survival, despite the irrationality of any action that would ensure his safety.

Never breaking his stride, Harry leaped out of the window.

V.

Henry hadn't seen anything so strange in all his life. Yet, his mind managed to come to terms with the fact that the thing that now stood across the room was dangerous. And somehow, it was responsible for the death of the poor woman that now hung from the door, impaled with a large bladed weapon.

As he swiftly pulled Tina to her feet, Henry cursed himself for not having more of a plan.

After he mysteriously awoke on the couch, Henry heard commotion from the back area of the house. Instead of finding a suitable weapon, Henry ran to the back and found where the commotion came from. Someone with a mask or helmet on stood gawking at something weird on another door.

Henry almost shouted at the person, but his eyes fell on the woman slumped on the floor. The morbid thought passed through his mind that she was dead, but when a small moan escaped her lips, he knew she was alive.

_Could that be Tina?_

It was surely possible. Tina was obviously a woman—someone that was in some kind of danger. Maybe the person with the mask on was some kind of sick psycho and Tina was his next victim.

Deciding against calling out to the masked individual, Henry slipped into the room and snuck to the woman's side. It wasn't until he glanced back that he realized another woman had been in the room, but sadly, Henry was too late to save her. She dangled about a foot above the floor, suspended by a blade sticking grotesquely from her chest.

Henry then realized that the masked killer wasn't in fact masked, but the pyramid was actually attached to its neck. And now, that _thing_ stood in some kind of morbid trance, fixated on the corpse.

Instead of slipping out of the room unnoticed, Henry and Tina fell to the ground, drawing unwanted attention.

Now, as Henry stood in front of Pyramid Head, he knew that they didn't have a chance if they confronted him head on. But what could they do? Run—that was the only thing they could do. Henry didn't have a suitable weapon, no escape plan, no nothing. He could only hope that luck was on his side.

Henry made the first move—grabbing Tina's hand, he made a dash for the door.

Pyramid Head grabbed another knife from somewhere and threw it with deadly accuracy. Henry and Tina proved to be too quick as the knife sunk into the doorway, right where Tina's head flew by only a second before.

"Come on!" Henry shouted as they dashed down the hallway then found themselves back in the living room. Henry turned sharply, almost lost his balance, and ran into the kitchen doorway. Despite his panicked haste, Tina stayed behind him, determined not to fall again. Henry turned to enter a door, but once he saw it lead down into an uninvitingly dark basement, he changed his mind. There was a door on the opposite side of the kitchen.

"Quick!" Henry said as he led Tina through the door. He closed it quietly and surveyed the hallway they were now in.

There were only three doors—one on either side and one at the end of the hallway. Henry and Tina immediately split up, trying the doors on either side. When they met each other's gaze only a moment later, they knew the other one's door couldn't be opened. There last hope was the door at the end.

The door opened easily and quietly. Henry and Tina moved into the dim room and closed the door behind them. They backed away from the door, anticipating their pursuer bursting in and overtaking them before they could even scream.

Tina glanced back and forth, swearing she heard ragged breathing coming from somewhere—then she realized it was coming from her. Tina held her breath for a moment then let out a soft exhale. So many things had happened in just a short time—it was hard for her to get a grasp of what was going on.

Henry turned to her and asked, "Are you okay?" This time he paused, giving her a chance to answer.

Tina tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. Hot tears stung her eyes and Tina blinked them away. She gave a short nod as she clenched her eyes closed.

Despite what happened, Henry was shocked at Tina's reaction. "Hey, hey—we're safe now. That—thing—it isn't going to find us in here."

Tina nodded only to appease him, but the house wasn't that big. Surely, Pyramid Head would find them and who knows what would happen to them then. Maybe they would have the same fate as the poor woman impaled in the bedroom. Maybe it had something worse in store for them—especially since they ran away. Oh yes, it would make their deaths slow and excruciating.

She tried desperately to push her fears away, but each time, they fought to envelop her in their irrational nature and mind-numbing anxiety. Tina rubbed at her temples, a reactionary but futile attempt to alleviate her headache and calm her imagination.

"You're Tina, right?" he timidly asked.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "How did you know that? Who are you?"

Henry saw her take a step back as if she would bolt at any given moment. "Wait—I know this is strange, but I can explain—kind of."

"Start talking."

"Believe it or not, I've been trapped in my apartment for the past few days," Henry began. He then relayed his experiences up to this point, including rescuing Harry, which seemed to pique Tina's interest, and his sudden appearance in the house.

"I know it's strange and hard to believe. Hell, I don't believe it myself, but here I am and here you are. And that thing is lurking around somewhere out there."

Tina seemed to relax slightly, though suspicion still remained in her expression. "If what you said is true, then you were responsible for saving the man who saved my life." Tina told her story as well, up to the point where she and Harry were separated.

"So he's alive?" Henry asked.

Tina nodded. "What if that thing found him?"

Henry didn't want to think about anyone running into Pyramid Head and what it would do to the poor soul that did.

"Tina—we should—" Henry was cut off by a piercing scream and heavy thudding coming from the other end of the house.

"Oh no—someone else is in here! That thing—" Tina shouted.

They dashed at the door, but the knob wouldn't turn. "We're locked in!" Henry shouted. A sudden feeling of danger caused Henry and Tina to turn around.

At the opposite end of the room stood a little girl.

"You're not leaving here—ever."

Notes:

Centurious: I appreciate the review. And the update is finally here.

Crazyb1tch85: Glad you are catching the fact that all these folks are in the house together. They are just missing each other. Since you read Silent Hill" Lost Souls, the diary entry should make more sense now—it wasn't Claudia's diary but Maria's.

Richard B. Sampson Jr.: Thanks for always reviewing. As you can see, the two stories are beginning to overlap and will have some huge ramifications on each other soon.

Shortey: Tina's okay for the time being, but it looks like she and Henry are due for a little pain from a familiar little girl. I'm not planning on adding anyone else from Silent Hill 4. I think the story is a little character saturated, but I like them so much, I can't get rid of them.

PJ: Glad you came across the story. Walter won't be showing up (this happens before Silent Hill 4), sorry about that. If you have any other suggestions though, let me know.

Rodarian: Yes, you hit the nail on the head—well kind of. This actually started out as a one-shot for Harry, but it developed into a whole other story. The two stories do/will impact one another and characters will cross between the two plots. It's my first time trying something like this, so I'm glad you like it. Let me know what you think of this chapter.


	6. The Butcher Returns

I.

Harry Mason sailed out of the window and for a moment, he felt as if he was flying. The air slowly whistled past him and the night air suddenly rushed into his lungs. Though damp and cold, it was strangely refreshing—a relief from the humid, stuffiness of the house.

He was free—even if it was momentary. The hellhounds seemed miles away as he twisted slowly through the air, his body fully accepting the idea of being weightless.

Harry then made a sudden and sharp move, thrusting his hand back toward the window and barely grabbed hold of the ledge. His body was no longer weightless, but a heavy sack of rocks that slammed into the side of the house. He dangled for a moment before his body reacted to a sharp pain in his shoulder.

Almost falling, Harry lifted his left hand and grabbed hold of the window ledge, hoping to take some of the pressure off his now hurt right shoulder. Harry watched above as the foolish hellhounds did just what Harry hoped—they sailed out of the window after him, pummeling to the ground below. Three sickening crunches and diminishing moans rose from the darkness below.

A breath of relief escaped Harry's lips then he managed to pull himself back through the window and crumple to the floor. He had made it—survived a near-miss with whatever those things were. But he still didn't know where Tina was or what else lurked in the shadows of this house.

Harry took only a moment to catch his breath, before struggling to his feet. His shoulder throbbed, but the pain slowly subsided. He patted himself down, making sure the cell phone and gun were still on him—and they were.

Harry began to backtrack, but stopped abruptly. He was sure he heard a voice. But not just any voice—something was familiar about it. It wasn't until then that Harry noticed a narrow door to his left. It looked older than all the other doors—dark, splintered wood with a rusted knob.

The knob was cold to the touch and stuck, but after a good jiggle, it turned. Harry now stood at the base of a set of stairs with a door at the top. Harry started up the stairs, straining to make out the voices—one of which he hoped would be Heather and the other, Tina.

II.

Tina swore the temperature had dropped a few degrees. She rubbed her arms but kept her eyes on the strange girl that had somehow appeared in the room she and Henry were holed up in. "Excuse me?" Tina reflexively responded to the girl's out-of-place comment.

Dark, empty eyes stared back at both Tina and Henry, but the girl did not respond.

Tina was tempted to repeat herself, but the ominous feeling that hung thickly in the air prevented her from even moving. She silently rejoiced when Henry took control of the situation.

"Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?" Henry asked, as if he had not heard the girl's last statement. He took a step towards the girl, but Tina firmly grabbed his arm.

"Wait," she whispered.

"Tina, she's just a girl—"

Doubt remained on Tina's face as she shook her head slightly. "There's something strange about her."

Henry gave the girl another once over. The girl did appear to be dirty and quite pale, her clothes and hair greasy and disheveled. And the strange teddy bear in her hand did nothing but add to the sinister appearance the girl suddenly had. He hesitated, not sure whether he was simply being overly cautious or whether his instincts were keen enough to sense danger. Either way, he wasn't going to make another move toward the girl.

The girl's deep eyes stared through them focused on something beyond what Henry and Tina could see with their eyes.

Henry spoke softly, "Where are your parents, maybe we could—"

"I know where Mommy and Daddy are," the girl hollowly replied. She rocked back and forth slightly, her limp limbs simply swaying in rhythm with her body.

The mysterious ring in the girl's voice sent a chill down Tina's back. "Maybe we could help you find them," she replied, taking Henry's lead. Though she managed to keep her uneasiness out of her voice, she felt like they were in terrible danger.

"I'm going to meet them," she said as her eyes rolled until only the milky whites stared back at Harry and Tina. Tina reflexively screamed and Henry took a step back.

A tear streamed from the girl's right eye, but as Henry looked closer, it was dark red—blood. Another tear fell from her left eye then it started to heavily flow from both eyes.

Tina felt her breath catch in her throat as she backed into the door. She couldn't pull her eyes away from the girl, afraid that if she even blinked, the girl would be upon them with a large butcher knife, viciously stabbing them until their screams finally died away. Tina fumbled for a moment, but her hand finally gripped the doorknob. She turned both ways, but it wouldn't open.

"Henry," she hurriedly whispered.

He too kept his eyes fixed on the girl. As much as Henry wanted to turn away, he feared that if he looked away, something terrible would happen to both him and Tina. The sudden flickering of the lights snapped him out of the morbid trance he was in. It finally registered that Tina had called his name.

"The door won't open!" she sounded panicked.

Despite Tina's warning, Henry didn't move. He watched the blood begin to pool at the girl's feet. Then, like a live animal, the blood began to move outwards, like cracks in a sidewalk. The blood began to snake over the girl's face and clothes too—each crack would break off into at least ten other cracks and continue to snake around, driven by some evil desire to swallow anything in its path.

Henry saw the blood begin to creep up the wall behind the girl. As soon as it touched something, it was like that object was assimilated—turned into a veined, crimson object. He then looked down and saw the blood creeping toward them. If the blood converted everything else it touched, what would happened to he and Tina when it touched them?

Though he kept his eyes glued to the girl, he reached behind Tina and grabbed the knob. It turned slightly, but did not make the complete turn to allow them to open the door. Henry put both hands on the door, watching the girl over his shoulder, and twisted the knob. It made no difference.

"Help!" Tina banged on the door, holding on to the slight hope that Harry would find them.

"You don't want to go with me to meet Mommy and Daddy?" the girl hauntingly asked. "It will only hurt for a minute."

"No!" Tina screamed as her pounding became more frantic. Henry joined her and banged on the door with one hand while turning the knob with the other.

The lights flickered again. Henry knew that if the lights went off, it would be the end for them. They had to get out, but how? It was then that Henry regretted not having a plan—he had saved Tina, only to lead them to their deaths.

Before Henry could chastise himself some more, voices sounded from the other side of the door.

"Hey, we can't open the door! Help!" Tina called. "There's something in here!"

It was a male's voice that replied, "Okay. We can't open it from this side either. Stand back, maybe we can shoot the doorknob!"

"We can't—there's something dangerous in here!" Henry replied. He knew that they sounded frantic, but if they didn't get out in the next few seconds, they would die along with the young girl.

"Okay!" he called back. His voice then went low, as if he were consulting someone else.

"Please, hurry!" Tina yelled.

The lights flickered again—this time, it seemed like a strain for them to come back on. Henry knew that the next time, they would not come back on.

III.

There were few things in life that surprised Cybil Bennett. As a cop in Brahms, a few miles outside of Silent Hill, she had seen many things—disturbing people and strange situations that normal cops only read about. Still, Cybil had kept her cool and approached everything with an unfaltering dedication. Even when she found herself immersed in the bizarre world of Silent Hill, Cybil kept her cool. She did her best to be a stable, reliable figure for Harry Mason as he searched for his daughter. But now, as she stared at Harry, she was truly surprised.

"Harry?" Cybil said as she put away her gun. "I'll be damned—looks like you didn't get far enough away from this place either."

Cybil took a moment to study Harry. Though several years had passed, Harry looked exactly the same as when she last saw him. Well, he did have a few more gray strands of hair on the side—but other than that, he looked healthy and fit, given the circumstances.

Harry shook his head in reply as he smiled. "I guess not—I thought everything was over. I should've known that this wouldn't stay buried forever."

Cybil shook her head, "We couldn't have known, Harry. We thought it was done—Alessa, Cheryl, Dahlia—all of it."

Harry's expression was unreadable, but his voice was hollow, almost a whisper. "No, we knew—my daughter, Cheryl—Heather—I should have been more careful." Harry stepped closer to Cybil, "Did you see the stories from a few years ago—the stories about James Sunderland?"

Cybil paused, "I'm not sure. I remember that it was a big deal, but I really didn't pay it any attention. Some guy killed his wife. They said he did it to relieve her of her pain—they said she was deathly ill."

"Well, later, when they talked to him, he talked about Silent Hill—the creatures, letters, and the fog. Everyone thought he was crazy—but I knew. But I didn't want to believe it. I threw away the newspaper and pushed it out of my head. The media forgot about it the next day and nothing more was ever said about him or Silent Hill."

Cybil touched Harry's shoulder and felt him wince in pain, "You're hurt."

"I'll be okay—it's just a little sore now."

Harry gazed back at Cybil, suddenly aware he was studying her. She didn't look any older than she had been when they first met. Her blonde hair was much longer now, pulled back into a smart ponytail. Her body seemed shapelier in normal clothes than a police uniform—her stylish black slacks, jacket, and purple blouse didn't seem appropriate in a place like this, but she looked good in them anyways.

The thoughts were interrupted by Douglas stepping forward and clearing his throat.

"Sorry about that," Cybil said. "Douglas, this is Harry Mason."

Douglas stared at Harry with a mixture of disbelief and suspicion. "This is Harry Mason? Cybil, are you sure about that?"

Cybil looked shocked. "Of course I am. This is Harry Mason—who else would he be?"

"Mr. Mason, we've met before. But the last time I saw you, you were dead."

Harry suddenly felt disoriented, as if the whole world began to spin. Dead? No, of course not. That didn't make any sense. He was standing here, reunited with Cybil Bennett. He rescued Tina earlier. He was looking for his daughter. He wasn't dead. No, Douglas was wrong—wasn't he?

Harry stepped forward. "Look, I think you may be mistaken, I—" a sharp pain tore through his skull almost crippling him. Harry fell to one knee and grasped his head.

"Harry?" Cybil ran to his side, but Douglas kept his distance. Cybil looked desperately at Douglas. "Can you give me a hand?"

Douglas shook his head, but put away his gun and helped Harry to his feet. Harry moaned weakly and still clutched at his head. Cybil directed them to an old, stained couch against the wall. They carefully sat him down.

"Harry, can you hear me?" Cybil kneeled down beside him.

Harry couldn't answer, as he found himself reliving the last few minutes of what Douglas described as his death. Claudia, her attack, Henry Townsend, the hospital, Dr. Killian, Tina, the house, and now, Cybil and Douglas—all of it whizzed through his mind in fast forward, repeating at a dizzying rate.

"I—" Harry stammered, "I was almost dead. You—you were there with Heather. You found me after Claudia—you put the sheet over me. But there was someone else—Henry Townsend—he found me and took me to the hospital—Brookhaven. Then that doctor—he did something to me—I was alive again."

"Just calm down, Harry. Take it slow," Cybil calmly advised. "Are you okay?"

"You," anger filled Harry's eyes, "Where's Heather? Where's my daughter?"

Douglas tried to back away, but Harry lurched forward and grabbed Douglas's collar. Douglas pulled back, but Harry brought him close.

"Where the hell is she?"

Cybil was shocked at the speed that everything happened, but moved swiftly to break up Harry and Douglas. She gripped Harry's arms tightly and looked into his eyes. "Harry, you've got to let him go. He helped me—he hasn't done anything to Heather."

Harry's slightly of focus eyes turned to Cybil. Upon seeing her, he seemed to regain his senses. Alarmed, he pulled back and let Douglas go.

"I—"

Cybil gently guided him back to the stained couch. He half-sat, half fell on the worn, yet soft couch. "Just relax, okay?" she smoothly coaxed. She kept one hand on his and the other rubbed the upper part of his arm.

Douglas straightened his trench coat and cleared his throat again. "I lost her," his head hung low and he shook it back and forth slowly, as if in deep regret. "I let her go—she was after Claudia. I was hurt—I couldn't help her."

"Where—" Harry weakly replied, "where is she?"

"I don't know."

Harry took a deep breath as the throbbing pain became a dull discomfort. Heather was lost in this damned place—again. Harry wrestled with that while he tried to decide how he was going to find her. Plus, the lingering feeling that something big was going to happen kept pushing to the front.

"Silent Hill—what happened here?" Harry asked. "I thought everything was finished—Dahlia, Dr. Kaufmann, Lisa, Alessa, Cheryl—everything was supposed to be normal. That Claudia—this is her doing."

Douglas then told his story about how he met Claudia, the job she paid him to do, and what happened after he actually found Heather. Harry and Cybil listened intently, only asking a few questions to clarify details. When he was finished, Cybil and Harry understood what was happening, but they still had some unanswered questions.

"I don't understand—what is Silent Hill? Why this place?" Douglas asked.

Harry responded, "It could be a lot of things. Silent Hill has somewhat of a colorful history, not to mention some strange crimes recently that add to the dark aspect of this place. I did some research after we left and I couldn't believe how much has happened here. I don't think there's a single cause for the evil here, but its here and growing nonetheless."

"So what now?" Cybil asked.

"I was with a woman—Tina. I don't know where she is, but I'm sure that she's in trouble. I've got to find her. And we've got to find Heather before something happens to her. I don't know what's really going on, but I won't let anyone take her away—not again."

Cybil nodded somewhat understanding how Harry felt about Heather. Though she was not his biological daughter, he loved her just the same. When Cheryl disappeared, Harry was a wreck. As their time in Silent Hill went on, he became more and more withdrawn and depressed, but that was mixed with a desperate feeling of loss that Harry had to deal with. Now, she could see hints of that same Harry Mason creeping back into his demeanor.

"I have to find my son and his girlfriend. They planned on coming here to Silent Hill. I'm not sure, but I believe something happened—something terrible."

Douglas nodded. "I'll help however I can. Mr. Mason, you have a good daughter—you're a lucky man."

Harry felt the genuine compassion that Douglas had developed for Heather. Something in Douglas's tone told Harry that he had suffered some loss of his own. And Heather somehow filled that loss. Because of that, Harry knew that he could indeed trust Douglas Cartland.

"Thank you," Harry finally looked at the older man. "We'll find her and stop whatever this is once and for all."

Cybil stood. "Maybe we can start by checking out this room. I'm not sure where we are, but maybe we can find something useful." With that, the three of them began to search.

The dark room turned out to be an attic to the house that Harry had investigated only a short time ago. Boxes, covered furniture, paintings, clothes, and other discarded miscellaneous items created a maze of sorts in the oversized single room. The only light came from Harry's flashlight, and another source of light that they couldn't see. But it illuminated the far walls and the angled ceiling. Shadows created a sinister atmosphere, making the attic seem much larger and dangerous than the other rooms of the house.

Harry took the lead, followed by Cybil with Douglas taking up the rear. It was easy to retrace his steps back to the door. However, before they rounded the corner, the door shut.

Instead of immediately calling out to whoever closed the door, Harry, Cybil, and Douglas pressed themselves against several stacks of boxes and used the shadows to conceal themselves. Harry felt his cell phone begin to vibrate, which immediately told him that they were dealing with an enemy—some horrible creation of this hellish world that didn't have good intentions for them.

He leaned out carefully and quietly and saw that his assessment was right. A hulking figure dragging a large blade behind him lumbered toward them. Somehow, Harry and the others realized whether they fought or stood still, The Butcher would have his prey.

Notes:

Shortey: Glad you like the overlap between the two stories. It was something I kind of thought of after I began writing the two separate stories. And now, you'll see some major crossover between the two.

Crazyb1tch85: Yeah, the house is quite bigger than even the folks in the story though. In the other story, Michael McNeal finds a map and makes a comment about the size of the house (it will be in the next chapter posted for Silent Hill: Lost Souls). For the most part, they are just missing each other due to circumstance though. But soon, everyone's paths will be crossing like in this chapter! The little girl will have a gruesome past, but it looks like Tina and Henry may have a gruesome future if that girl has anything to do with it. Let me know what you think of this chapter!

Rodarian: You are a smart man—that actually was my original intention—to have Tina be the writhing woman on the bed, but that seemed too gruesome of an end for her so early in the story, so that's how Maria came into play. For Henry, this takes place before the adventure in the game. He was trapped in his apartment a few days before Silent Hill 4, and that is when this takes place.


	7. More Mysteries

I.

Tina Grey didn't want to die.

She, just like every person on the face of the earth, knew that death was imminent—there was no way to circumvent the tragedy, whether it came in the form of an accident, natural causes, or just being a victim of circumstance. But the last part is what Tina had a problem with. In most cases, she made sensible choices that kept her from being a victim of circumstance: she didn't wander in dark alleys, she stayed away from high-crime areas, she always locked her door, and she mostly let someone know where she was going.

But today had been different from every other day. She narrowly escaped the cold clutches of death twice today. Dr. Killian surely would have killed her—or done something horrendously unthinkable—and Pyramid Head surely intended to kill her. But both times, she had been saved by good timing on the part of a reasonably tall, dark stranger. And now, she sat trapped in a room with a girl, who inexplicably was trying to kill them.

Just as Tina thought that everything was over, voices called to them from the other side of the door. Someone else was in the house—and if that was the case, then they had a chance to survive. Though by the looks of things up to this point, that chance was slim. Still, Tina held on to that small ray of hope, praying that they would find a way to open the door.

"Are you there?" Tina frantically called out as soon as she heard footsteps outside the door.

There was a pause then, "Yes—we're here. We've almost got the door open, just give us a minute," the same male voice from earlier replied. Then his voice became a muffled whisper, sharp but steady. Tina could tell he wanted to open the door, wanted to save them, though he didn't know anything about them.

Henry held his position between the strange girl and Tina. He knew that the snaking veins would simply pierce through him—that he was in no way a protective shield for Tina. Still, the chivalry in him kept him in place, despite the situation. He didn't know her by any means, but if he was meant to save her, then somehow, she would be safe.

By the moment, the scene became more horrific. A repelling stench seeped from the girl into the room. Accompanied with the metallic, sharp smell of blood and something else that Henry couldn't quite pinpoint, the air was thick and difficult to breathe. Henry figured that if they didn't die from the life-sucking veins, they would suffocate. Neither demise sounded appealing.

Tina pressed herself against the door and pulled Henry back. The veins were mere inches from his feet and snaked closer with every passing second.

"They're not going to open it in time," Tina whispered.

"They will," Henry replied. He managed to hide his own doubt from Tina—he didn't really believe they would make it. This was the end.

II.

Heavy footsteps shook the floor as The Butcher shambled into the attic. His obscenely oversized blade dragged behind him and tore a trail of wood splinters with every step. He loudly sniffed the air as he made his way toward the boxes.

Harry pressed his back to the stack of boxes, hoping for more time to figure out what they were going to do. The attic was large enough that they could simply take him on and dodge his attacks. But then again, this new enemy might hope that they do just that. There was no telling what abilities this new monster had, but Harry knew that they would be forced to fight for their lives.

He met Cybil's hard stare. She looked to him for a way out—depended on Harry to save their lives. But he also saw resolve in her expression. He knew that whatever he did, she would fully back him up, no matter what. Trust—there was an abundance of trust between them and that might be just the thing that would save them.

Harry gave Douglas a quick glance and returned his nod of approval. Now, both Cybil and Douglas left the situation in Harry's hands. But what were they going to do? Harry studied the attic for a moment but found nothing that could help them out of the situation—no windows to toss The Butcher out of, no hidden weapons on the wall, and no secret items to use against him.

Harry checked his gun once more, which also served as a sign to Cybil and Douglas. They were going to fight and take The Butcher down the old-fashioned way—filling the bastard full of bullets.

Taking one final, deep breath, Harry spun away from the comfort of hiding to face their attacker and began firing. However, the confrontation with The Butcher took a sharp turn for the worst almost immediately.

Henry hit their attacker with several rounds, which appeared to daze it slightly. Cybil and Douglas followed suit and began firing on him as well. At that point, it seemed that their battle wouldn't be much of a battle at all. However, after several rounds had been fired, The Butcher rushed at Harry and barreled him over. Normally, Harry would have been able to dodge such a telegraphed attack, but he really didn't expect to get hit by anything other than a blade.

Harry helplessly flew into a stack of boxes and they in turn fell on him.

"Harry!" Cybil called. She continued to fire but as luck would have it, she ran out of bullets. "Get back!" Cybil yelled to Douglas.

Cybil leaped back as the blade swung in a wide arc, barely missing her midsection. But The Butcher proved to be as quick with the blade as he was strong. Shifting his weight and moving forward, the blade pummeled downward toward Cybil's head.

She threw herself to the side as the blade ate threw the floor. Cybil heard something metal hit the floor and begin to roll. Glancing up, she saw the air coin rolling across the floor. Somehow, the coin had worked its way out of her jacket pocket.

"Shit," she grunted as she scrambled to her feet. Cybil dashed toward the rolling object, hoping to scoop it up then turn on her opponent, but just as she reached it, it hit an uneven spot in the floor then disappeared.

Cybil glimpsed down and saw a large crack in the floor that swallowed the coin effortlessly and silently. She couldn't see, but vividly imagined the coin tumbling through the floors into some unexplored, dangerous room. The coin was as good as gone—Cybil chalked it up as a loss. She had more important things to worry about, like not dying.

The Butcher yanked the deeply embedded blade from the floor and started after Cybil. She turned onto her back and scrambled backwards, never quite able to regain enough balance to stand and run.

A large stack of boxes halted Cybil's retreat and before she could react, The Butcher grabbed her ankle. She jerked back and kicked at his ankle, but he was too resilient and too strong. Like a rowdy toddler with an unwanted doll, The Butcher flung her across the room.

Cybil led head over heels before she bounced to an abrupt halt on the wood floor. She heard someone call her name, but it sounded like a faint whisper, drowned out by the dragging blade of The Butcher.

Darkness crept in from the sides of her eyes, threatening to envelop her in a helpless faint.

_No! Not now—I have to stay awake—_

Her limbs felt like lead moving through tar. There was no way she would be able to dodge The Butcher's next strike. She saw the blood and gore stained boots stop only a few feet from her. Her eyes followed the boots, up to the grimy clothes, to the unspeakable face, then lastly to the blade. The Butcher raised it high and held it there, savoring the preemptive rush of murder.

Cybil felt her heart skip a beat as her eyes focused on the blade. It took all she had to keep from screaming aloud or giving in to the overwhelming unconsciousness gnawing at her. The moment the blade began to bore down on her, she felt a hard jolt from her left side. Her body went limp and she rolled to a stop. Cybil heard something else tumble to a stop beside her.

"Douglas," she gratefully whispered as she gazed into the older man's gray eyes. He had reacted much more swiftly than a man of his age should have, but she wasn't complaining. That was the second time Douglas had saved her from certain death since she had first met him.

"Go help Harry, I'll take care of this guy," he winked at her.

"Bullets aren't going to work against him. Let me stay with you, you can't—"

"Don't tell an old man he can't do something—" his tone was suddenly more directive, leaving no room for argument. "Make sure Harry's okay, then we'll fight this thing together. I'll buy you some time."

Cybil felt a second wind give her strength again. She nodded in agreement, picked herself off the floor, and made a dash to where Harry lay, trapped underneath some wooden crates. As she ran, he hoped and prayed that Douglas knew what he was doing.

III.

"We were lucky to have run into those guys," Henry said. They now stood in a room down the hallway from where only minutes before, they were on the verge of being murdered by a strange young girl. Michael McNeal, Heather Mason, and Trey Harrison had come to their rescue just in time. But in the process, they had lost one of their own—Christine Mitchell.

The teens elected to continue on to find Christine, while Tina opted for her and Henry to stay behind. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something important. Plus, she promised Heather that she would find Harry Mason and reunite them. Tina had no intention of breaking that promise.

She absently nodded in response. Tina continued to survey the room, when her eyes caught a folded sheet of paper hanging out of the book that Trey had thrown against the wall. Tina moved past Henry, snatched the sheet of paper from the worn book, and studied it for a moment. Her heart raced with anticipation but ached with trepidation—this was what she had been looking for but did she really want to see it?

"What is it?" Henry asked.

Tina opened it quickly. "It's a drawing," she replied, slightly perplexed.

It was a child's drawing in crayon of a family—father, mother, and two little girls. They were drawn beside a normal two-story house with a leaning chimney that most five year olds love to draw. Tina was remotely surprised at the nearly accurate color scheme of the people and house—no outrageous colors involved.

"It's just a child's drawing—looks like maybe at one time, the girl was normal."

Tina moaned internally at Henry's dry comment. She picked up the book she had plucked the drawing from and read the title, "History of Science and Reasoning Abilities, Volume 1." Tina paused for a moment then began searching the stacks of books.

"Henry, help me find volume two of that series."

Henry looked at Tina skeptically. "Hey did I miss something?"

"Maybe so," she ran her fingers along the books in the bookcase, hoping to come across the book she was looking for. Henry kneeled next to a high stack of books.

"Hey," he said. He moved some books to the side and pulled out a book similar in appearance to the other—dusty; dark maroon, gold bind. "It's the second volume. And—" he pulled out another folded sheet of paper. "It looks like there's something in here too."

Tina peered over Henry's shoulder as he opened the paper and smoothed it out on the floor. This crayon drawing was a little darker and slightly disturbing. It showed the mother and father as looming figures with sharp, jagged teeth hovering over the two young girls. Blue tears streamed down both their faces.

"I don't like this," Henry mentioned. An uneasy feeling crept through him, sending a shiver up his spine.

"How old do you think that girl was?"

Henry shook his head, "Not sure—maybe seven or eight. Why?"

"Look at the title and tell me if you see anything strange."

Henry looked at Tina for a minute, wondering if the stress of the situation had finally gotten to her.

"Don't look at me like I'm crazy, just look at it."

Henry sighed but read the title again. "History of Science and Reasoning Abilities, Volume 2. I don't think science and reasoning abilities would be something that a book focuses on though—they're two different topics. Reasoning abilities would have to do with the mind—more cognitive psychology stuff. And if that's the case, it wouldn't be in the same book as science, since there has always been a debate about whether psychology is really a science or not."

Tina smiled. "Well, Henry Townsend, you are smarter than you look—and I'm not even joking."

Henry looked at the title one more time. "What was the girl's name?"

"Tell me what you think."

"Science and Reasoning Abilities—Sara. The first letters of each word. So the real title would be, History of Sara."

"Henry, I think these drawings are some kind of clue to what happened to Sara. And somehow, I think that finding the rest will tell us what we missed."

Henry stood. "If she was seven or eight then there could be seven or eight volumes. Let's find them."

IV.

Douglas Cartland didn't know what the hell he was going to do.

His bravado was thankfully enough to ease Cybil into leaving The Butcher to him while she brought Harry back into the fray. So basically, he had turned himself into a decoy—nothing more than a timely distraction until they could formulate a new plan of attack.

_What have you gotten yourself into this time, old man?_

Douglas shook off the useless doubt and focused on The Butcher, who now peeled his blade out of the floor.

_Think—there's got to be something you can use—_

Years of detective work made his eyes keen—he could spot something out of place or something odd in about half the time it took most policemen. So, when his eyes rested on a dagger that pinned a scrap of paper to the floor, Douglas immediately went for it.

The weight of the dagger surprised Douglas, but he had little time to thoroughly examine it before The Butcher was upon him. With a flick of the wrist and a bit of luck, Douglas let the dagger fly from his right hand—it sailed through the air like a missile and pierced The Butcher in his throat.

The behemoth staggered back and fell to the floor. His dark, thick blood seeped from his neck and saturated the floor, leaving his corpse in a pool of the crimson liquid.

Douglas stood in disbelief for a moment that he had single-handedly taken down the bladed menace. _The old man's still got it_, he smiled to himself. He noticed Cybil supporting Harry who now had a slight limp.

"We don't have to worry about him anymore," Douglas motioned to the fallen monster.

"Sorry about that," Harry said, clearly embarrassed at being taken out of the fight so soon.

"There will be plenty of fights for you to make it up," Douglas replied.

Cybil asked, "Are you okay?"

He shrugged, "A few scratches—I've had worse."

Harry moved away from Cybil and put more weight on his ankle. "I think I can make it on my own now." He slowly made his way to the paper that had previously been pinned down by the dagger.

"What is it?" Douglas asked.

"Not sure," Harry turned the paper over in his hands. "It's just a number 760421."

"Maybe it's a code for something," Cybil suggested.

"Maybe..." Harry studied it for a moment before slipping it in his pocket. "We should—" he began but a flash of pain tore through his head. Harry fell to one knee and was only remotely aware of Cybil and Douglas rushing to his side.

Their urgent questions sounded distant and hollow, subdued by the blinding pain throbbing through his head. Then, he heard it—the siren. The weird siren from back then and he knew what was happening.

All three of them watched as the room went through a metamorphosis—everything became a twisted version of its previous existence. When it was all done, the trio found themselves standing on a grated floor, surrounded by rusted walls, and bathed in a strange odor.

"What the hell..." Douglas blinked hard, sure that he had imagined the transformation. But everything remained when he opened his eyes again. "What happened, Harry?"

The pain subsided and Harry stood with his gun drawn. "We're in serious trouble now—we've got to find Heather and Tina before it's too late."

"I don't understand," Douglas replied.

"It's the other world—it's taking over the normal world. Whatever's behind all of this is gaining power and it's only a matter of time before this becomes permanent."

Cybil checked her bullets and Douglas followed suit. Once they were prepared, Harry led them out of the attic back into the strange, warped version of the house.

V.

The crayon drawings made the pictures much more sinister than if they had been painted by some demented, schizophrenic madman that claimed to have seen hell with his own eyes. The sheer simplicity of the lines and vibrancy of the colors were almost evil and taunting in nature. As they studied the pictures, Henry and Tina moved closer to each other, not out of adoration but as a way to ward of the uneasiness that closed in around them.

"This girl, Sara and maybe her sister—their parents did something strange."

Tina interrupted, "I think they may have been a part of the cult in this town."

Henry continued. "They tortured or did something horrible to one or both girls. Then here's a picture of that orphanage, Wish House. Maybe the parents gave them to that weird place and something else horrible happened. Somehow, this guy adopted one of the girls, after the other ran away from the orphanage. I think everything was fine, until something happened, and the father found out something. He knew he had to escape, but somehow, I don't think he made it, and neither did Sara."

Tina sat back and thought for a moment. They were making a lot of assumptions based on these pictures, but she didn't think they were too far off. But if that is the case, who was her sister?

"I don't know, Henry," she finally said. "It makes sense in a way—but what if we're totally misinterpreting these pictures? Besides, this diary was written ten years ago."

"Which would make her about seventeen," Henry trailed off and appeared lost in thought.

"What are you getting at?"

"Not sure, but I think those kids might be in danger—bigger than even they know. We should hurry and find Harry Mason. We're going to need his help."

Before they could make a move, everything changed. The real world faded away like a dream, replaced by unkind surroundings and dark furnishings.

"What in the hell—?" he watched the stacks of books disappear, blood seep through the walls, and darkness creep in from all sides. He glanced toward the bookcase where a single book lay on the shelf. A strange light emanated out of its pages.

Quickly, Henry opened the book, titled _Out of the Darkness_. But when he opened it, he found that a hole had been cut in the pages to make room for a small flashlight. Henry took it out, warding off the closing darkness.

"What happened?" Tina asked. She held onto Henry's arm and kept her back pressed against the bookcase.

He waved the flashlight back and forth through the sparsely furnished room. "I don't know, but I think we're in trouble."

"Let's just find Harry and those kids and get out of here," Tina said.

"Best idea I've heard all day," Henry replied. They moved carefully to the door and stepped out into the hallway, unaware of the horror they would soon face.

Notes:

The people on the other side of the door and how Tina and Henry escaped are detailed in Silent Hill: Lost Souls—Chapter 20.

The coin Cybil drops actually is the fifth and final coins the teens were looking for—from here, it lands right in Michael McNeal's hands.

Crazyb1tch85: I got the rest of your review and thanks—I always look forward to your reviews!

Rodarian: No it's not the same house. I haven't had the chance to play restless dreams, although I did name the chapter in the other story, "Dream's End", which relates to that. I made this chapter a bit longer—but there is a lot more going on now, so tell me what you think.

Shortey: Yeah, the groups will be eventually meeting each other, though the circumstances will definitely be tense. Let me know what you think of the girl's story so far.


	8. Alter Ego

I.

Cybil Bennett retired from being a cop several years ago. Splitting up tended to be a routine option when they conducted some kind of search—it allowed them to cover much more ground and they all could defend themselves, so no one ever thought twice about splitting up.

But this was different. Though she pressed the idea of splitting up, she suddenly felt like it was a bad idea. Still she couldn't go back now—her pride wouldn't let her.

When they exited the attic, instead of a stairway, they found three separate, winding hallways, leading in different directions, lined with wooden doors. Each of them took a hallway, electing to meet back in ten minutes.

It disturbed her that she had become so numb to experiencing things that by normal standards were strange and impossible. But then again, that numbness allowed her to function and react quickly rather than be anxious and edgy. As a cop, she knew that if her head wasn't in the game, she would never escape this place.

Cybil now moved cautiously down the narrow corridor. She couldn't shake the distinct feeling that something crept around every corner, just out of her range of vision. But the stealthy stalker made no noise nor gave any indication of its presence. She was surrounded by silence, broken only by the sound of her boots on the hardwood floor.

She opened the first door to her right and entered a wide room, one of its walls draped with a mirror. The bed—rumpled, dirty sheets; the dresser—pieces of clothing hanging out of the drawers, some broken, the bottom one missing; the mirror—cracked and cloudy; the windows—shut, soiled curtains framed them; the carpet—brown and blue, foul, slightly damp. Cybil caught all those things on one glance through the room. But the thing that caught and held her attention was the mirror.

She stepped toward the mirror, unsure why she suddenly felt tense at the sight of her own reflection.

It was her—that was no doubt. Her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, her fair complexion, and her snazzy outfit comprised of black slacks and boots, violet blouse, and black jacket. But then again, she that feeling still lingered. Something wasn't quite right.

She kept her gun pointed at her reflection and stepped closer. Cybil thought about simply calling for Harry or Douglas (probably both) to be here with her, but she thought against it. She was fully capable of taking care of herself—there was no reason to get everyone worked up over her own irrational anxieties.

Behind her reflection, she saw movement and she whipped around. Yet, there was nothing there—only the door she had entered, which was now closed. She turned back toward the mirror and her reflection, only this time, it was the reflection that moved. It stepped toward Cybil through the mirror as if it were a wall of water. The reflection changed from an exact copy of Cybil to a younger version—police uniform, short hair, wicked smile.

Cybil took an irresolute step away from the new threat. "Stop right there," she warned. Cybil wanted to shoot, but in this weird place, there was no telling what the result would be. She could be injuring herself instead of defending against a monster.

"Are you really going to shoot yourself?" the pseudo-Cybil mused. She took a daunting step towards Cybil.

"I'm warning you, stay where you are," Cybil tried to sound strong and assertive, but her voice faltered slightly, giving away her trepidation.

"Warning me?" pseudo-Cybil laughed. "Remember, I'm you and I don't take kindly to threats."

"Since you know so much, you know I'll shoot you," Cybil bluffed.

"If you planned on shooting me, you would have pulled that trigger when I first appeared. But you can't touch me, because I'm you."

Cybil lowered her gun with uncertainty. She wanted to question the pseudo-Cybil, but what could she ask? It was strange staring at another person that was essentially the same person. It almost didn't make sense. Cybil searched for a logical question, but through all her years of interrogating, she couldn't conjure one.

"You're at a loss for words—you don't know what to ask, do you? Well let me begin by saying that you can't escape Silent Hill. You thought you could run away, but _he_ still found you. You still belonged to him."

"That parasite—" Cybil remembered the creature that controlled her mind. It made her attack Harry, but he was smart enough to remove the thing without harming her. But it was totally removed from her, wasn't it?

"Yes, it planted a seed inside of you—our lord knew what would happen. It wasn't his time to be resurrected, but there were those blinded by their own ambition and fervor. Dahlia's attempt was destined for failure, just as it has failed yet again. And now here you are, in the middle of something you don't fully understand. Again."

"I came to save my son and his girlfriend."

"As our lord knew you would. Your presence here has separated me from you. But your son is dead and dear Christine is fulfilling her destiny as the new vessel for Samael."

"Sean—dead?" Cybil repeated. She suddenly went numb. "I—I don't believe you."

Pseudo-Cybil smiled wickedly as Sean dragged himself through the mirror into the room. Cybil knew it was Sean, though he looked nothing like her son. Blood seeped down his pallid face, and his mouth opened and closed hungrily. Sean's head moved erratically back and forth as he pulled himself closer, his body jerking at a different tempo. He moved from one position to another, without the normal fluidity of movement. He wasn't her son, just another monster of Silent Hill—Sean was indeed dead.

"Mom," he croaked out as he got closer.

"No," she murmured. Not Sean. He had a hearty laugh. He was helpful and kind. He was a great athlete. He didn't like mayonnaise or pickles. He had to have a glass of warm milk every night before he went to bed. He had a scar below his right calf from a bicycle accident. She pulled his first tooth. He would graduate in just a few weeks. He talked about being a pro-athlete everyday. Every little thing about Sean, things only a mother could know, flooded into her mind in no particular order.

This was that all that was left of Sean Bennett—her son. He had been transformed to a warped shell of himself not for any other reason than to taunt Cybil. She was saddened and disgusted. He was an abomination nothing like her son—nothing like Sean Bennett.

"I won't let you use my son," Cybil coldly said. She aimed her gun at Sean's head.

A deep growl escaped Sean's lips and he continued toward Cybil.

"Sean, I love you and I'm sorry," she squeezed the trigger.

The creeping figure moved for the final time then fell still. Cybil's icy blue eyes brimmed over with tears. She hadn't killed Sean—no, Silent Hill had done that, but she was still responsible. She had damned him years before he was even born.

Cybil collapsed to one knee and a heart-wrenching wail escaped her lips. The tears flowed freely, emotions she had kept in check all these years suddenly came pouring out. She had lost her son—the most important thing in her life. Nothing would be able to fill that void—nothing.

Her heart felt heavy and she could barely breathe through the sobs.

"Why him? Why not me?" she choked out.

"How melodramatic. You impressed me until the breakdown at the end. I couldn't have done better myself."

Dark, charred hands grasped at Sean and dragged the lifeless body back into the mirror

"Shut up." Cybil had lost all of her strength, she couldn't even lift her gun to shoot that damn clone in its smart-ass mouth. If it was possible to lie down and die, Cybil would have done just that. With Sean gone, was there anything left for her to live for?

A journal slid in front of Cybil.

"Maybe you should read what Christine and her friends think they know about you."

_I haven't talked to Harry in years...we never mention what happened in that town...that horrible place called Silent Hill. We parted ways with an unspoken understanding never to talk of that place again. But now, seventeen years later, my son has found it...or it has found him. Maybe it's trying to get back at me...maybe I wasn't supposed to escape...maybe we both were supposed to die there, but somehow, we made it. But it wants me back. I can feel it calling me, driving me insane. Instead of me, it has found my son and his girlfriend. I can't let them go there...they cannot go there...it will get what it wants...I have to stop them, even if I have to kill them._

_I have failed, but I know that my son is taking her there. When I went into his room, I found White Claudia, a small bag of it, but I recognized it immediately. They have had my son for I don't know how long and I didn't even know it. My son is taking her there to make her a part of that cult there or something worse. I have to stop it once and for all. I'll go to Silent Hill, even if it means my death. Cybil Bennett_

Cybil stared at the words reading them over and over again. It took a few minute to make sense of what her double was trying to tell her. Then it dawned on her. Disbelief and shock replaced only a faction of her grief. "You—you wrote this and gave it to them."

"Of course, _we_ know Sean had no White Claudia, you never really intended to kill them, and you didn't suspect that we still lurked in the shadows of Silent Hill. But, they're young, impressionable, and in a stressful situation. Christine was confronted by her boyfriend the same way. And she chose just as you did. They all witnessed it and they would believe anything we threw at them."

Cybil couldn't even respond. It was nothing more than a game to these people—no, monsters. Their lives were nothing—just inconveniences to be toyed with and disposed of at their whim.

Pseudo-Cybil continued, "I tried to kill Christine the night before they left. But that little bitch proved to be quite the fighter—and now, she's wandering around Silent Hill." She paused then, "It's only a matter of time before we get to her." Pseudo-Cybil kept a bit of distance between them but slowly paced back and forth as she spoke.

"How could you be so cold and calculating?" Cybil weakly asked.

"It's our nature—we're here to ensure our lord's resurrection is unobstructed and uninterrupted. We have pined for this day and now it is upon us. You should feel privileged to have lived this long. Our lord felt it necessary that you see this through to the end. But personally, I could care less—you and your companions are a nuisance. And I still intend to kill Christine."

Cybil couldn't resist finding out more, "Why would you want to kill Christine if she's the new vessel?"

"Once the investigator, always, huh, Cybil? Dead or alive, it makes no difference. Unlike Alessa, she's been primed since birth to mother our lord. Her body is all we need—consciousness is simply an unnecessary variable. But she still did what we needed her to do—return to Silent Hill."

"Return?"

Pseudo-Cybil's lips curled into a mischievous smile and her light eyes shone with amusement. "You don't know, do you? I won't spoil the rest, I'm sure you'll find out soon enough. In the meantime, I have another brat to deal with—Alessa."

"Heather Mason?" Cybil corrected.

"No matter what new name you call her, how she changes her hair, or how she runs away, she is still Alessa Gillespie. And now, she will be justly punished for her defiance of our lord's will—just like you. I can't kill you, but I can hurt you."

Cybil barely got to her feet before pseudo-Cybil was upon her. She kicked Cybil in the stomach then grabbed her ponytail and flung her to the ground. The gun slid across the floor, much too far for Cybil to reach. The physical pain Cybil now felt didn't even compare to the emotional pain she was going through, but it was enough to grab her attention.

"I've seen your mind—you try to act tough, but you're really just a scared little girl," pseudo-Cybil said as she circled the fallen Cybil, kicking her every so often. "A frightened wimp! I hate you! Weak! Pathetic! Sniveling! Here you are crying over your precious son, you are simple and helpless, bound by your stupid emotions! This world deserves to be remade by our lord!"

Cybil unsuccessfully shielded herself from the kicks, catching them in her ribs, stomach, and thighs. It seemed as though she couldn't move fast enough to protect herself.

"Your feeble-minded friends don't have a chance—the monsters aren't going to kill them, you are."

"Like hell!" Cybil caught one of the pseudo-Cybil's kicks and pushed back against her, successfully throwing her to the floor. Cybil then rolled to her feet and kicked pseudo-Cybil in the face. She reeled backwards from the sheer force of the kick, but regained her posture abnormally fast. She retaliated by sweeping Cybil's legs out from under her.

Though she hit the floor hard, Cybil sprung to her feet as pseudo-Cybil rose to her feet. Cybil spun and delivered an impressive crescent kick to pseudo-Cybil's face. It was then that Cybil noticed that the other Cybil was unnaturally hard and smooth, like she was made of glass.

"You can't hurt me," pseudo-Cybil said as she kicked at Cybil's midsection. Cybil leaped back, but before she could charge at her again, a cold hand wrapped around her throat and lifted her about a foot off the ground. Cybil gasped desperately and struggled against the iron-like grip, but there was no chance she would escape.

"I wasn't done," pseudo-Cybil glared angrily at Pyramid Head. He rotated Cybil around to see his visage before effortlessly flinging her across the room. Cybil hit the wall then crumpled to the floor. She didn't move.

"Great timing," pseudo-Cybil sarcastically shot. "Fine, I'll kill Alessa then I'll finish my fun with dear Cybil. And you can stop presiding over me like some kind of watchdog."

She stepped forward and walked directly through the mirror to the other side where Heather Mason stood.

II.

Harry Mason closed the door to the room he found himself in. He wasn't sure that closing the door behind him was really the best decision, but it kept anything (like those hellhounds) from sneaking in behind him. Even though, if something was already in the room, it would be more difficult for him to escape. Harry figured he was thinking too much again.

The room itself was quite large. Harry figured the owners must have had a wall knocked down between two of the rooms and plastered over the additional door. Wait, but this was the other version of Silent Hill, so maybe it was simply a construction that somehow interpreted into something sinister. He was thinking too much again.

That was the problem with being a writer—his mind was constantly on full power. He analyzed, formulated, and mulled over every situation he came across in an effort to find new material for his books. He even pondered on his works in progress for hours on end, constantly looking for ways to improve the story, characters, and plot. He went to sleep thinking of new ideas for his story and would quickly write them down when he awoke the next morning.

Harry enjoyed it though, despite his habitual late nights, writing frenzies, and the dreaded writer's block. Heather made fun of him and told him he was weird. And maybe he was.

Harry chuckled to himself at that, but then turned his attention to the room. It was the only one that had a door he could actually open, so there must be something important here.

But as he surveyed the room, he became uneasy. He felt like he had stepped into a time warp—there he was back in the living room of his first apartment. All the familiar furniture was there: the sofa set, coffee table, end tables, television, curtains, piano, and bookcase. They were all there, no different than at least two decades ago, but they were spread out throughout the large space, no where near where they were before.

Harry stepped farther into the room still in disbelief. He ran his hand over the couch set his parents had gotten for him—a house-warming gift, his mother insisted. He didn't know how much it had cost, but he knew that his parents couldn't have afforded it. Or if they could, it was the last bit of free money they had. But they simply smiled as his father helped him move in—they never asked for the money in return.

But why? Why was it _here_? The thing that bothered Harry most was the disarray of the furniture, as if it had been haphazardly placed in the room only moments before he stepped in. But the piano caught his eye. Actually, it was the sheet music propped above the keys, like it was the only thing the mysterious mover had taken the care to ensure stayed in its correct spot.

He maneuvered through the maze of furniture and hovered over the piano for a moment. The first page of Moonlight Sonata had been torn from some book, judging from the ragged right side of the sheet music. It was a song he was familiar with, and the first few measures were the easiest of the song.

Harry then noticed something scratched in the seat. He leaned close and read it aloud.

"The tune of the moon will release the key to salvation."

It was much less cryptic than he was used to, but it was still a riddle nonetheless. Harry obeyed—he sat down glanced at the sheet music once, placed his fingers on the keys and began. He ended the tune where the sheet music ended and waited for something to happen.

A small panel, a secret panel that he wasn't even sure was on his piano, cracked open. Harry wedged his fingers in the crack and pulled it open all the way. A small pyramid sat in the recess. Harry immediately recognized it from long ago.

"The Flauros?" he said as he pulled it out of its hiding place. He remembered receiving the strange object from Dahlia Gillespie. It helped him to break the through the nightmarish environment Alessa had created, but plunged him into the distorted world dubbed 'Nowhere'.

He didn't know who or what had put this here or even if the evil powers that be knew that it was here. Regardless, it was here now and he hoped that it would prove to be useful in the inevitable battle ahead.

Before he could ponder over it more, Harry heard something heavy hit the floor. _Like a body_, he immediately thought. Harry brushed the pessimistic thought away, but he knew that _something_ was wrong. He slipped the Flauros in his jacket pocket then stepped back out into the hallway.

"Cybil? Douglas?" he called once back down the hallway towards the rally point, but silence was the only response. Harry suddenly became aware that he was holding his breath, waiting for something. He let it out carefully, made sure his gun was fully loaded, then slowly walked back to the rally point and in the direction he thought he heard the noise.

Harry picked up speed, unable to shake the feeling that something bad was happening. He rounded the corner fast and ran right into Douglas.

"Sorry about that," Harry said, more embarrassed than anything else.

"You heard it too then—the crash."

Harry nodded, then asked, "Where's Cybil?"

Without hesitation, Harry and Douglas sneaked down the hallway Cybil had taken. Several doors lined either side of the hallway—Harry took the left side and Douglas took the right side, testing each door.

"Cybil?" Harry called again. Still no answer. Douglas called out as well, but the result was still the same. They suddenly heard movement and a sob from down the hallway.

Harry broke out into a full sprint and drew his gun. "Cybil!" he desperately called.

_God, please let her be all right._

Another sob. Harry turned the corner and located the door that the sobs escaped from. He kicked in the door, covered by Douglas. He scanned the room and found Cybil.

She sat against the wall, her head lowered between her legs. Alone.

"Cybil?" Harry said and ran over to her. He kneeled next to her and when she looked up, he knew she had been crying. Something had happened—he had never seen Cybil like this.

He expected her to immediately tell him what happened. But she said nothing—she simply fell into his arms and began to cry.

Harry simply held her tightly as sobs racked her body. He waited until they had subsided before asking, "What happened?"

Cybil hesitated, unsure of how to retell what happened. But once she started, the words spilled out, "They killed him. They killed my son. Harry, they killed him just to get to me."

Harry had unconsciously taken her hand in a gesture of sympathy and comfort.

"It was my fault. I thought everything was over, I didn't know that I was still a pawn of evil. They killed him and now they're after Christine and Heather."

She paused, waiting for Henry to say something but he simply urged her to go on with an understanding nod.

Cybil kept her eyes fixated on the spot where Sean had fallen only minutes ago. "I thought it was over—even when I came here, I thought we were safe, that nothing could touch us. But I was wrong—they took Sean, they turned him into a monster and I—I shot him."

Cybil sucked in a breath, but it turned into a sob. "He was all I had—I don't know what to do without him. And I—the evil was inside me, Harry. All that time, watching and waiting. It used me—it made me try to kill Christine," her voice had grown unsteady and thin, but she continued. "I can't go on, Harry—I just can't." Her head fell and hot tears streamed down her face.

Harry took her and held her close, remembering his own pain when he thought Cheryl was gone forever. He understood too well how she felt, but unlike him, she wouldn't get a second chance to raise a child.

When Harry finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "Cybil, we need you, now more than ever. It's going to be hard, and we're bound to lose more before all this is over. I wish there was something else I could say to ease the pain, but nothing in this world can help you with that."

Cybil had stopped shaking and simply lay in his arms. It was a comfort just to be there, knowing that someone was there for her when she had no one else. Reluctant to pull back, she forced herself away but turned to Harry. Her icy eyes, still wet with tears, bore into Harry's own dark eyes.

"Harry, I don't know what to do. All I had was Sean. And now he's—"

Harry's hand moved to the side of Cybil's face and lingered there. "You can't give up. It's hard—you feel like there's nothing left in this world, like a large hole was carved right here," he placed her hand over his heart. "But that feeling, turn it into determination. Fight for him because he can't fight for himself."

Cybil felt the warmth of his hand against her soft skin. She had forgotten the touch of someone outside her family that truly cared for her.

"Nothing we could have done would change what's happened here. This is bigger than any of us. But as long as we're here and we believe in each other, the evil can't win. Cybil, we trust you—_I_ trust you. No matter what this place does, I know the real you and nothing will change that."

Sean still lingered at the forefront of her mind, but Harry's words had somehow soothed her pain.

"Thank you, Harry," Cybil replied sincerely. She had to be strong, in memory of Sean _and_ for those around her. She moved her hand to the top of Harry's hand, thankful that she had someone like him to rely on.

"What happened here?" Douglas asked from across the room. He saw the dent in the wall from where Pyramid head had mercilessly thrown her.

Cybil stood with Harry's assistance. She lingered in his arms for only a moment more before pulling away, slightly embarrassed. "My evil self and some strange creature were here," she suddenly turned to Harry. "They said they were after Heather."

"Where did they go?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, but she came out of the mirror, maybe—" Cybil walked to the mirror and inspected the exact spot where the pseudo-Cybil had appeared. She hadn't noticed it before, but the large mirror was paneled—it was made of several smaller, rectangle mirrors about the size of a normal door. The panel that Cybil now stood in front of wobbled as if there was a hollow space behind it, unlike the rest of the mirrors which were affixed to the wall.

Cybil stepped back and drew her gun.

"What are you doing?" Douglas asked, quite surprised at the sudden shift in mood.

"Trust me now. Aim and on my mark, fire."

Harry stood to Cybil's right and Douglas stood on the left, all three aimed at the panel Cybil had pointed at. She waited—waited patiently—only a few more seconds—

"Fire!" she commanded.

Notes:

Fans of Resident Evil should immediately recognize the Moonlight Sonata puzzle.

The scene above ties into Heather's situation in Silent Hill: Lost Souls—Discovery.

CrazyB1tch85: I love reading your reviews! I just thought I would get that out the way. Trey is going to get much braver—check out the next chapter of Silent Hill: Lost Souls when it's posted. To me, he has some of the best lines yet in the story. If I was a girl, I'd love him too! You aren't the only one to be slightly disappointed by the end to The Butcher. Check out my response to Shortey below for my thoughts on it. And yes, the coin bit was done more out of convenience. I originally planned the adults meeting the teens in the house. I had written completely different scenes, but then I decided to go another way. But since Cybil already had one of the coins that they needed, I figured I needed a way to get it to them without having them meet. The result—the coin falling into their hands. The adults were in the attic, while the teens were on the first floor with the second floor in between them, so it is very possible that they didn't hear any of the ruckus above. I have given Henry a little more character than he had in Silent Hill 4, which seems to be turning out for the best. I was (I already graduated) a Behavioral Science (psychology) major myself (which is why Michael McNeal is one too!) and we studied about the debate in class. The books Henry and Tina found were definitely custom made, courtesy of Silent Hill. This chapter probably confirms your suspicions on Sara's sister. I'm sure you figured that it was Christine. Thanks for continuing to stay with the story and your wonderful reviews.

Rodarian: A lot of the situations in the stories just come to me as I'm writing. It's just one of the few benefits to having a wild and overactive imagination. I'm sure that you already figured that Christine was Sara's sister. Tell me what you think of their reunion. Check out the next chapter of Silent Hill: Lost Souls. You'll finally get to see the reunion everyone's been waiting for!

Shortey: I appreciate the review—you're keeping me honest. The end to the adults vs. The Butcher did indeed end too fast. I'll explain it real quick then let me know what you think. I originally intended for Douglas to get killed during this battle, which is why he ended up alone against The Butcher. But he's a great character, and Heather still hadn't seen him since the Amusement Park, so I scratched that idea. I was going to have all three fight him at the same time, but I hadn't really given any focus to Douglas, so that's also why he ended up alone. I also realized that it had been a while since I posted—I was going through a serious case of writer's block. So I ended it simply and quick. I really didn't intend for an anti-climactic battle though. I am considering rewriting the end to that battle, making it a little more dynamic—what do you think? As far as romance goes, I think there might be a little budding between Christine and Trey—I have actually considered a little romance between Tina and Harry, but they do have quite an age difference (40's and 20's). Maybe Harry and Cybil? Hey, thanks for the review and I appreciate the constructive criticism—it only makes the story better!


	9. Back to Brookhaven

I.

Henry scanned the hallway as the beam of the flashlight disintegrated the thick darkness. As his eyes adjusted, Henry blinked a few times to ensure he wasn't hallucinating. After another scan of the room, Henry realized that he wasn't imagining things—everything had suddenly undergone a severe metamorphosis.

The slightly musty library was now a sparsely furnished boiler room-type of place. The grated floor, metal walls and ceiling, and metal furniture reminded Henry of some underground plant or maybe someplace less friendly.

He took Tina's hand and led her into the hallway, which wasn't the hallway they had come from earlier. Metal doors lined the right side and as Henry and Tina moved cautiously down the hallway, in some of them Henry and Tina both swore they heard something massive stomping around and panting, but when they would glance into the barred window, the room was empty. Definitely unnerving.

"This doesn't make any sense—I don't think we're even in the house any more," Henry whispered as they passed one of the empty rooms where something unseen lurked.

Tina replied, her voice a whisper as well, "I actually think we're in Brookhaven Hospital. This looks exactly like the third floor. But that's impossible, isn't it?"

Henry didn't want to think about the impossible and possible now. The definite lines between the two had been blurred and then totally erased. Nothing was as it seemed and anything could be possible.

Henry met Tina's eyes. "Isn't that were they kept the insane patients?"

Tina reluctantly nodded. She knew Henry realized the same thing she had—if the insane patients were kept here, there was a possibility that they were still here—only more insane. And dangerous. Tina didn't want to take any chances running into any of those patients, especially that horribly creepy patient, Stanley Coleman. The thought of him touching her again sent a shudder down Tina's spine.

"If we are in the hospital, we need to find a way out of here. The door we came in from doesn't exist anymore," Henry said.

Tina turned to find a blank wall where the door had been before. "Yeah, let's just get out of here," she said, glancing around nervously. "There should be a door at the end of the hallway then stairs down to the first floor." She began to walk in that direction, but noticed Henry wasn't walking with her. "Henry? What is it?"

She watched him stare intently at one of the doors—no, he peered into one of the windows that the nurses monitored the patients without having to actually go into the room.

"This girl," Henry motioned to the nametag to the left of the door. In white letters against the black plastic was the name Christine Mitchell. "Christine Mitchell—isn't that their friend, the one they're looking for?"

Tina nodded. "I think so. They said she was taken—maybe this is where she ended up."

Henry squinted and drew his face closer to the window. After surveying the room, he turned back to Tina. "I don't see anyone in there. But it looks like there may have been someone in there. The bookcase is moved."

Henry pulled on the door, hoping it would be open. It wasn't.

Tina snapped her fingers. "In Dr. Killian's office—he has a set of keys to all the doors in the hospital. We can just go down there and grab them. Maybe Christine left something behind that might let us know where she is now."

Henry agreed and began to head in the direction Tina had indicated earlier, but then abruptly stopped. A figure—a nurse, it looked like—shambled toward them. She faded in and out of the darkness as she walked underneath the lights.

Tina recognized the old nurse uniform—the blocky shoes, the tightly-fit dress, and the odd hat. But they had given those up for a much more practical and comfortable lend of pants and a blouse—and no hat.

The next thing that Tina noticed was the long, rusty pipe the nurse practically dragged along. She seemed not to have the strength or coordination to carry it properly. And as she got closer, her purposefulness appeared to escalate—now she headed straight for them.

Henry saw all the same things that Tina had observed, but he also recognized the nurse as the one that whisked Harry Mason away. If Harry Mason was indeed alive and well, she would have to know what miracle the doctor performed. And maybe she would be able to tell him more about Pyramid Head. Still, the unnatural clumsy gait and metal pipe told Henry that there could be something horribly wrong with the nurse's physical and mental state.

"Excuse me, nurse?" Henry uncertainly called out. "I think we met earlier—I brought in a patient. You know, the one that you," Henry searched for a word that wasn't accusatory, "_carted_ to the doctor's office." He wanted to say _kidnapped_ instead.

No response.

The nurse continued straight toward them, but she seemed to have picked up her pace.

"Henry, there's something not quite right about her—and why does she have that rusty pipe?" Tina whispered. "I don't think she plans on answering _any_ questions." She pulled closer to Henry, more in subconscious support than a pining for protection.

Henry didn't reply, but he totally agreed with Tina. Besides the fact that there was something abnormal about the nurse, an uneasy feeling still lingered from their abrupt transition from the house to the hospital.

He had other questions, but something told him that this nurse wouldn't be the one to answer them. Instead of asking more questions, Henry and Tina took a cautious step in retreat—right into another hissing nurse.

Her exposed teeth, gums, and muscle clenched hard as she lifted the pipe and swung downward toward Henry's head. He reacted quickly, blocking the blow with his arm. At the same time, Henry pushed Tina to the side.

Tina hit the wall but used her momentum to propel herself back toward the nurse and successfully pushed her down. The nurse only grunted in reply and clumsily picked herself up as Henry and Tina took off.

"The double doors at the end of the hallway!" Tina shouted.

Henry stayed a few steps ahead, charging the other nurse. She reacted just as Henry thought she would—she wildly swung her weapon towards Henry's midsection. Instead of completely stopping, Henry slid underneath the attack and popped up behind the nurse. He booted the nurse in her lower back, sending the nurse flying into the hard wall.

Tina hopped over the fallen nurse, never breaking stride, and joined Henry as they dashed down the hall. She followed as they burst through the doors and directed Henry to the stairs. They proved to be too quick for another nurse that started toward them—she didn't even get close before they disappeared into the stairwell door.

When they descended and arrived at the first floor from the third, Henry burst out of the stairwell door and stopped. Tina breathed hard as she rested on Henry's shoulder.

"I think we're safe," Tina whispered. She expected Henry to say something, but when she looked at him, his gaze was fixed down the hallway. When Tina finally noticed what Henry already saw, she choked back a scream.

A stumbling figure emerged from the darkness. He looked like a doctor just out of surgery, judging from the amount of blood on him. But that was the thing that was so wrong—no doctor should have that much blood on them from _any_ surgery. The blood dripped onto the floor with loud splats and it seeped through his clothes.

Tina immediately recognized the figure before them, despite the blood-soaked scrubs. Though half-closed, Tina could clearly make out those eerie eyes. She drew closer to Henry, which told him something was definitely amiss.

"Dr. Killian," Tina clarified.

The throbbing in Henry's arm seemed distant as this new possible threat approached them. "The one who attacked you?" he inquired.

She nodded. Tina only glanced over the mysterious chest Killian desperately clung to as he staggered almost drunkenly toward them.

"Move from my path, infidels. I—I must—ugh!" Killian doubled over in pain and almost lost his footing. But he stayed on his feet, though shakily, and continued toward them.

Henry and Tina looked at each other with sincere bewilderment. What had happened to the doctor? Why was he talking so strangely? What was with the chest he had?

Henry thought about asking all those questions. Yet, despite the doctor attacking Tina earlier, he felt compelled to try to help the doctor—it was simply the right thing to do. "Hey, are you okay?" Henry approached Killian.

_Great question, ass. Of course he's not okay—there's blood all over the place and he looks like death_, Henry mentally chastised himself.

As Henry neared Killian, the injured doctor suddenly spurred to life, waving something shiny that he surreptitiously pulled from a pocket. Killian's already strange eyes flickered with madness.

"I'll kill you."

It wasn't what Killian had said, but how he said it that sent a chill up Henry's spine. He was crazed, and now he had a scalpel—quite a large one—and advanced on Henry much faster than Henry could have anticipated.

Despite Killian's quick advance, Henry reacted faster—he ducked low and tackled the doctor. He thought he heard Tina scream, but the doctor's grunts, slippery blood, and waving scalpel had all of Henry's attention.

Killian was strong—he threw Henry off without much effort, but he lost the chest in the process. It slid across the floor and came to rest by the wall. Now, Tina stood in between Killian and the sacred chest. He had no problem killing her to get to the chest. In fact, he looked forward to it.

Killian deftly rose, grabbed Tina, and backhanded her. She didn't fall to the ground as Killian expected, but swung back around with a punch. It landed on his jaw, stunning him long enough for Tina to knee him on the most vulnerable spot on any man. She stepped back, hoping to see the results of her work—Killian coughing, grabbing himself, collapsing to the floor, possibly vomiting—but none of that happened. He simply glared at her and she could swear he grinned underneath his face mask.

He grabbed her wrist, snatched her toward him, and rose the scalpel high. Tina watched in horror, imagining the scalpel sinking into her eye. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, but then heard Henry charging from across the room. She opened her eyes and grabbed Killian's wrist and before Killian could jerk away, Henry bowled into them.

The three of them hit the floor, but Tina was already back on her feet. "Henry, come on!"

Henry crawled atop the doctor and punched him in the face. He rose and began to head in Tina's direction, but Killian grabbed his ankle, and Henry fell.

Tina screamed, but before she could help, a cold hand gripped her arm. Turning on her attacker, she screamed, "Let me go!"

It was another nurse.

Tina pulled away, but the nurse held her tightly. Tina's hand shot out to a table in the hallway—one of the familiar metal clipboards they always complained about found its way into her hand. Heavy and hard, the clipboard served as a suitable weapon as Tina came across the nurse's face. Without hesitating, she came back across, across, and back across the nurse's face. Her grip finally loosened. Tina grasped the clipboard with both hands and bashed the nurse over the head. With a moan of defeat, the nurse tumbled into the wall and slid to the floor.

Tina turned to help Henry, but Henry managed to give the doctor a swift kick to the face and slip from Killian's grasp before Tina could respond. Henry scrambled to his feet, grabbed Tina's hand, and bolted down the hallway past the now rising Killian.

"The office—on the right!" she breathily exclaimed.

Henry and Tina ducked into the office and slammed the door behind them. They grabbed a cabinet and pushed it in front of the door then backed up, waiting.

The door shook for a few moments later and Killian shouted muffled threats at them—but as quickly as it started, it ended. They heard a painful wail from the other side then shuffling footsteps, much more urgent than before. Then there was silence.

Tina realized she had been holding her breath—she let it out with a heavy sigh. "Do you think he's gone?" Tina whispered.

Henry shook his head. "I don't know. He could be hiding on the other side, waiting for us to come out. But he seemed like he was pretty hurt. Plus, there was that strange chest—I think he's up to something else—we were just a distraction."

Tina folded her arms and slumped against the wall, feeling a little more comfortable. "That doesn't make me feel any better. Somehow, I think that it was more than coincidence that we ran into Killian."

"You're probably right, but we don't have any way of stopping him right now. Since we know that Christine is somewhere in this place, we should find her and just hope we don't run into him again."

"Oh, the keys," Tina remembered. She went to the metal desk, rifled through the drawers for the keys, and rejoiced when they were in her hand. "Here, I found them!" Tina jingled the keys at Henry.

Henry shook his head. "What we have to go through for a stupid set of keys these days. And I thought it was difficult getting a replacement key for my apartment."

In spite of the horror surrounding them, Tina smiled. It was awkward, but she needed the levity right now—she was thankful that Henry could give her what she needed, when she needed it most.

"We should probably wait for a few more minutes, so we can be sure he's gone," Henry suggested. Tina agreed.

It only took a few seconds of uncomfortable silence for them to look at each other and laugh.

"A little too quiet, huh?" Henry asked.

Tina smiled. "I don't mind since you're here," she paused, then realizing how flirtatious it sounded, she quickly changed the topic. "So what do you do? I mean, like your work?"

Henry replied, "I'm a free-lance photographer. It pays pretty well, actually, and I'm not bound to a crappy work schedule. Days, nights—whenever I notice a photo op, that's when I work. Nice travel too—I've been to some cool places. It's funny, I've even been to Silent Hill before, but it wasn't like this."

"Yeah, the nice little resort town—I always meant to go when I got around to getting a boyfriend. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No—my last breakup was two years ago—that's part of the reason I moved to South Ashfield. I needed the change. It—it was a difficult time."

Tina nodded in understanding. "I had a boyfriend up until a few months ago—he cheated on me—with another nurse!" Tina laughed cynically, "So, I've written off guys, I've got my work and my friends—that all I need."

"At least you have that—I barely have any friends. I'm in and out so much, I really haven't had the time to find friends."

"Well, I know this is an awkward situation, but consider me your first friend." She jutted her hand out toward Henry.

He couldn't help but to smile, "Sure." They shook but instead of drawing back their hands, they lingered.

Her hand was so soft and petite in his—he had forgotten this feeling. When he felt the blood rush to his face, he pulled his hand away and looked down shyly. "Sorry about that," he quietly said. When he glanced up at her, she looked away shyly as well.

Tina couldn't believe how hot her face felt. Here she was, in the middle of the strangest, most dangerous situation in her life and at a moment's rest, she found herself with a crush on the second man to save her life.

What was she thinking? Why is it that she fell so easily? Surely he didn't feel the same way. No, she was simply misinterpreting the situation—forming feelings when there was no reason to. Tina figured she would apologize for creating such an awkward situation, then it would be all good. But she wasn't sure that the flutter in her heart would calm so easily.

"Henry, I—"

Henry shushed her as he moved closer. Then they kissed.

When they pulled back, neither one of them were sure how they had gotten to that point. Their eyes locked.

"I—" Henry stammered. He was surprised at his own boldness given they were in the middle of a place probably a sliver less scary than hell itself. Yet, he felt something with Tina—maybe it was the natural bonding of people when faced with extreme adversity. He wasn't sure.

"Don't apologize." Tina knew he was just as confused as she was. "I don't want you to be sorry."

Henry simply nodded, unsure of what to say. But then he realized that no words needed to be said. The feelings between them were understood—and at this point, that was all they needed.

"I think that doctor's gone—we should check that room," Henry offered.

Tina nodded in agreement, the air between them still fresh with feelings that neither one of them were expecting but fully ready for.

Henry and Tina moved the bookcase and opened the door.

Spots of blood led off down the hallway and around the corner. The doctor was gone. There were no other nurses lurking around either.

Henry and Tina took a chance and dashed up the stairs, returning to the door with Christine's name, without further incident.

The first key they tried opened the door. Henry walked in first and immediately noticed the moved cabinet and large hole in the wall.

"Wait, Henry," Tina urgently whispered. She stopped abruptly and grabbed Henry's arm, forcing him to stop as well. "Do you hear that?" she asked after a few moments of complete silence.

Henry shook his head.

"I heard voices—I think they're coming from in there," Tina motioned to the third door on the right. After Tina mentioned it, he did hear two voices—both of them female.

"It may be Christine, but we should be careful."

Henry noticed a wooden plank leaned up against the corner of the bed. "Maybe this will be useful," he picked it up and swung it a few times. It was easy to use and heavy enough that it would serve as a suitable weapon. Henry took it in one hand then took Tina's in the other.

He looked at her and smiled, realizing holding her hand suddenly felt different—it meant something different. He had to protect her. And their touch was a pact to trust each other, with their lives if necessary.

Henry turned and walked through the hole with Tina close behind.

II.

Christine froze at the girl's words: _I knew that you would come back. Now, you can stay with me and you don't ever have to leave again._

There was something sinister in her tone, which immediately set off an alarm in Christine's mind. No, this wasn't her sister—of course it wasn't. Her sister should be eighteen years old and she shouldn't be here in Silent Hill. And her sister would never sound so—evil.

"You—you're not my sister," Christine shot.

"Make no mistake, I am your sister. And you—you left me to die in that orphanage—alone. If I hadn't been adopted, I would have rotted there."

Christine shook her head. "No, that's not true." The memories came back to Christine as if they had not ever left. "I overheard the sisters talking. You had been adopted and we were going to be separated. They were planning on keeping me there until some day they kept talking about. I couldn't bear to stay there by myself, so I ran away. I figured that I could meet up with you—that your new parents would take me in and love me the same way they would love you. Then we would be together again."

"Liar!"

Christine continued, "As I ran, tried to cross the bridge but an oncoming car almost hit me. I fell into the river. The man in the car leaped into the water and saved me. They took me to the hospital, but there were no records on me. I couldn't remember anything but my name. The hospital allowed the couple to adopt me—it was real informal, probably illegal, but they did it anyways. And they loved me as if I was their own child. Not like our parents."

"I hate you!"

"But I don't hate you. I don't hate our parents either. After going through all this, I realize that just like the people of this town, they were misguided and lost. Because of that, they only saw us as a means to get closer to their god, not as their own children. It's sad but the truth."

Christine continued, "You're nothing but a ghost of my past. I wish I could change it—I wish you were alive again, but it can't happen. The only thing I can do now is stop all this, so your soul can rest."

"A ghost?" Sara laughed. "I'm not a ghost, dear sister. I'm much more than that," she said as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

Then there was movement from the right side of the room, where the hole was. Two people emerged—a man and woman. The man seemed prepared for trouble—in his hands was a sturdy looking wooden plank. The woman lingered behind, but gasped when she caught sight of Sara.

"Henry, it's Sara!" she exclaimed. Then she noticed Christine between the bunk beds. "Are you Christine?"

Christine nodded. Henry kept Tina behind him and the plank in front of him then inched around to join Christine.

"Are you okay?" Henry asked, never taking his eyes off Sara.

"I'm okay," Christine replied.

"We met your friends—they set out looking for you, but after we found out about Sara, we knew we had to find you too. They don't know your connection to all of this."

"That I'm meant to be the new vessel of Samael," Christine realized.

Sara let out a cackle. "So you think you've figured everything out? You know nothing."

"We know that you and her foster father were killed by The Order—the cult group responsible for controlling the town," Henry said.

"I told you before—I'm not a ghost. Let me enlighten you to what The Order did. They did kill my foster father right in front of me. They tore him open—they butchered him—and made me watch until the hellhounds had their fill of his insides. Then they took me—Dr. Killian operated on me—he did something to me. They wanted me to be your replacement, but I wasn't the same as you. There was something special about you. But their plans went awry—I didn't respond to their witchery and operations. My growth was stopped and my body is nothing more than a vessel for revenge against anyone that crosses my path and you, Christine."

Christine shook her head in regret. "You are so consumed with hate that you've given up your humanity—you're no better than our parents. You're nothing but another servant for Samael."

Sara let out an earth-splitting shriek. Christine swore she could see the sound waves tearing through the room, bombarding them with a deafening, high-pitched scream. Christine, Tina, and Henry clasped their hands over their ears, praying that it would stop before their eardrums ruptured.

When they had collapsed to their knees and writhed in pain, Sara stopped. She said, "Now, I'll finish what I started and I'll kill you, Christine."

Henry sprang up, despite the ringing in his ears and dizziness. He hauled back and hit Sara across the face with the plank. She flew to the right side of the room and hit the floor. She lay still.

Henry returned to the girls and helped them to their feet. "We've got to get out of here before—"

A gravelly, demonic voice finished his sentence, "Before I wake up? Too late."

Henry spun, expecting to be face-to-face with Sara, but instead he had to look up to find her. She clung to the ceiling, peering down at them

Sara's voice was warped and raspy, "Did you think it would be that easy?" Her appendages jerked roughly, bent at severely unnatural angles to keep her hands and feet in contact with the ceiling. Sara crept across the ceiling towards them, her pallid face contorted with hatred.

"Oh my god! Henry!" Tina screamed when she saw the horrifying scene.

"No, Sara," Christine gasped.

"Get back!" Henry screamed as he swung the wooden plank at her. His first swing missed horribly and Sara took advantage, moving in for the kill. But Henry whipped the plank back and caught her across the head. With a demonic groan, Sara fell to the right and to the floor.

Henry thought it was over, but Sara sprang off the floor and landed on all fours again. This time, her body was bent backwards like a bow, her head nearly touching her feet, and her arms and legs remained hyper-extended, somehow supporting her weight at such an odd angle. However, her head stayed unnaturally straight and her eyes remained locked on them.

_Great, we're in the Michael Bay version of The Exorcist_, Henry sourly thought.

He heard Tina and Christine behind him, and now Sara stood between them and the hole in the wall—their only way out. When Henry moved to the right, Sara would skitter to the right; when he moved to the left, she would move in the same direction.

"You won't escape," Sara said. "You'll die right here."

Henry backed up until he had closed the gap between him and the girls. "Take the right," Henry said to Tina.

"And you take the left and I'll take the center!" Christine said as she ran directly toward Sara.

_Dammit, that's not what I meant!_

Henry silently cursed, but there was no time to hesitate. Sara moved in quickly. He scrambled up the bunk and circumvented Sara as Tina did the same. In an amazing display of acrobatics, Christine leaped and tucked her knees, completely flipping over Sara.

As Henry predicted, Sara had targeted all three, but with them splitting up momentarily, she was confused on which one to go for first. Her elongated, swinging arms missed them by far and the space was too narrow for her to quickly turn around, which gave them enough time to duck back through the hole.

Once back in the hospital room, Henry shoved the cabinet to cover the hole. Christine and Tina both helped, but was only halfway covered before Sara's head popped out of the darkness.

"There's no escape," Sara growled. Her body forced its way through the hole, completely knocking over the cabinet. Tina stumbled, but Henry grabbed her hand and gave her stability. Christine bolted out of the room behind Henry and Tina

"Downstairs!" Henry yelled, as he threw open the double doors then the door to the stairwell. They dashed down the stairs, almost falling a few times, but never actually taking a tumble. Sara growled, panted, screamed, and yelled obscenities behind them, slowly closing the lead they had.

Henry burst out of the stairwell and paused for a moment frantically looking back and forth down the hallway. "Which way?" he asked through heavy breaths.

Christine quickly replied, "Killian's office—the one with a code. Where is it?"

"Down here!" Tina took off in that direction and Henry and Christine followed. They turned a corner—at the end of the long hallway was a single door with two figures lingering in front of it. No one had time to identify them—they could only hope that they were allies in the right place at the right time.

Notes:

Michael Bay is a director/producer known recently for producing the action-intense remakes of The Amityville Horror and Texas Chainsaw Massacre. So if he did undertake a remake of The Exorcist, it could be a lot like Sara's depiction.

Shortey: Thank you for the kind words. I probably will go back and rewrite the end to that fight, but in light of everything else going on with the characters, I'm sure their future battles will make up for it. In the next chapter of Silent Hill: Lost Souls, you just may get to see a little romance between Trey and Christine. Let me know if the mushy stuff in this chapter made it spicy!

Rodarian: Glad you liked the Cybil scene so much. I think she was definitely an overlooked character throughout the first Silent Hill game, so I wanted to develop her more throughout this story. The reunion is a momentary happiness, but it is one that everyone will share momentarily. The end is near!


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue

Harry Mason felt the constant ebb of pain. And that was enough to tell him that he was alive. He had survived the nightmare of Silent Hill once again. But where was he?

He didn't want to open his eyes. In the darkness, he could imagine that he was actually lying in bed, having awoken from a terrible dream, and that nothing had been real. He hadn't been nearly killed by Claudia Wolf's pet monster. He wasn't whisked to the hospital by Henry Townsend. He didn't awake in Brookhaven Hospital to find the horrors of Silent Hill were once again running rampant and had called him back. And Heather was never dragged back to that hellish nightmare.

But no matter how much Harry wanted the nightmare to be nothing more than a fleeting part of his subconscious, he knew that it had all been real. Even the final battle with Samael. The battle where he had been severely wounded.

Harry chanced opening his eyes a crack and was met with the harsh white glare of a fluorescent light. There was white everywhere—the lights, walls, sheets—all of it a gleaming, sanitary white. Harry opened his eyes fully, fighting against the sting of the glaring luminescence, and the white was replaced by a figure leaning over him.

"Dad?"

Harry's eyes adjusted and the figure came into focus. First, the messy, unstructured dirty blond hair, hazel eyes, fair skin, freckles. It all came together to form the familiar visage of his daughter.

"Heather?" Harry reflexively voiced. Then he said more definitely, "Heather. You're okay."

Heather's eyes brimmed with tears as she joyfully gazed into her father's eyes. "I was going to say the same to you." She took his hand in hers as the tears tumbled down her cheeks. Unlike when she found him in their apartment, Harry's hands were warm. "I thought I had lost you. Again."

"I don't die easily," Harry croaked. He laughed then fell into a slight coughing spell, which only worsened the pain.

"You're going to have to take it easy, Mr. Mason," Tina stepped into the room dressed in her nurse outfit. She flashed a brilliant smile at both Heather and Harry. "I'm glad to see you're awake finally. I was beginning to worry."

"Please don't tell me you brought me to Brookhaven," Harry said as he glanced about the room.

"With Killian gone and all that horror defeated, Brookhaven is actually a good hospital. And I'm taking care of you, so you don't have to worry about any crazy nurses trying to stab you in your sleep."

Tina crossed the room and grabbed Harry's chart from the foot of the bed. She gave it a cursory glance then met Harry's and Heather's gaze. "Looks like you're recovering nicely. The wound in your chest was pretty serious, but it wasn't too deep. You had to get a few stitches and you're probably going to be sore for a few weeks too. Otherwise, you're okay."

"What about you?" Harry asked.

Tina's expression softened a bit. "I'm okay. I can't believe everything that I saw. It seems like everyday, I'm trying to rationalize everything that happened, but I can't. And then there's Henry and Christine. They're both gone. I always think that there's something we could've done so they could be here too."

Harry replied, "We did the best that we could. And that's all that we could do." He wanted to say more, but there was nothing more to say. He too wished that he could have saved Henry and Christine, but both of them were gone. Henry saved his life and Harry felt like he cheated Henry because he couldn't save his. Henry was simply gone without a trace, lost in the depths of Silent Hill. And Christine had sacrificed herself so they could defeat Samael. She too was trapped within the nightmare of Silent Hill. Harry was content to assume they weren't dead, but being alive in Silent Hill was worse than death, which didn't make him feel any better.

It would take some time for him to recover, he knew that, but Harry wasn't going to sit idly by while they were somewhere out there. But he couldn't tell Tina that. She would want to go with him, and she had already seen enough horror to last her two lifetimes. And he definitely couldn't tell Heather. The look in her eyes when she saw him awaken was a blessing, but he didn't want to put her through that again. She would object to him venturing out again after being nearly killed. Still, it was something he would have to do.

"Dad, Cybil and Douglas were here for awhile. They went to go grab something to eat. They've been here since you were first admitted."

Harry suddenly felt alarmed. "How long?"

Heather looked at Tina, who nodded, a gesture that told Heather to go ahead and tell him.

"Almost three weeks. Some of what happened has been in the papers, but all the attention died down last week sometime. Several of Michael and Trey's classmates were victims, but they haven't found their bodies at all. They've attributed it to a college prank or something lame like that."

"So they're covering it up?" Harry flatly asked. But what did he expect? Unless they experienced it, no one would believe even a fraction of what they went through.

"Michael and Trey stayed for a while too. But they had to go back to school and pack up fro graduation. They got to leave early."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What are they planning on doing?"

Heather felt her heart skip a beat. There's no way her father had already figured what they planned on doing. Maybe he hadn't been sleep and had heard them talking. Whatever that case was, there was no sense in lying.

"They're going to find Henry," she answered, hoping that Tina heard as well.

Tina moved closer to the bed. "They know where he is?"

"I don't know."

"Well, Henry was a photographer. And I'm pretty sure he does work around here. Maybe you can find an address or something."

"Great idea," Heather said. But as she started to stand up, Harry placed a hand on hers.

"Heather, I know what you're planning on doing."

Tina looked from Harry to Heather. Heather couldn't keep her eyes locked with her father. It only took a few seconds for Tina to figure out what was going on.

"You're going to help them find Henry, aren't you?" Tina asked.

Heather slipped from her father's grasp and stood at the end of the bed. "This entire thing is my responsibility. I don't know what happened to Henry or what's going on. Maybe it's nothing and he's doing just fine. But now that I know you're okay, I can't sit here without knowing that it's really all over."

"I can't bare to lose you again," Harry said, his voice merely a whisper.

"You're not going to lose me. But this is something that I have to do. I didn't tell Michael and Trey I was going with them, but I won't take no for an answer. And I won't let you stop me. I almost lost you and everybody else because I couldn't finish this before. This time, I'm going to make sure this ends."

Harry wanted to argue. He wanted to hold her tight and never let her go. He wanted to hold her hand and walk back to their apartment and never face anything else evil again. But deep down, he knew that none of those things were feasible. The evil was still out there. And though it was hard to admit, Heather was connected to it. She would be the only one who could stop it.

"Heather," Harry weakly said.

Heather frowned. "If I say any longer, I'll start to cry again. I'm leaving."

"Tell me you'll be back."

"I can't do that."

Harry felt his heart break into a thousand pieces as Heather opened the door and turned to leave. At the last moment, she turned back to Harry and Tina.

"I can tell you that I love you. Dad."

Without waiting for a response, Heather turned and left Henry and Tina alone. She prayed that she was making the right decision. In the end, regardless of the outcome, she had to face whatever lay before her without hesitation. And fortunately for her, she had friends that would be right there with her.

Notes:

This story overlaps with Silent Hill: Lost Souls.

To everyone that kept up with this story from beginning to end, thank you so much. All of you really helped keep me going, battling through work and writer's block. I hope that this story was as fun for you to read as it was to write. I loved getting all of your reviews and hearing what you thought about the different aspects of the chapters. Please, keep reviewing for other folks the way you did for me.


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